


The One in Scottsdale

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Basically Ass to Mouth, Brief Quarantine Mention, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Orgasms, Pool Sex, Poor TV Choices, Porn With Very Little Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Relationship, Sex Toys, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Scottsdale life. A series of one-offs from the Break. I'll reorder these later.Chapter 1: The One with Love IslandChapter 2: The One in the PoolChapter 3: The One with Ice TimeEpilogue: The One in TorontoPre-Epilogue: The Night Before the One in TorontoPrologue: The One Where it Begins
Relationships: Frederik Andersen/Auston Matthews
Comments: 15
Kudos: 139
Collections: Anonymous





	1. The One with Love Island

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even pretend to know what these dudes get up to in real life. Probably not this. This story is just for fun and I'm really not making any actual assumptions about anyone's sexuality or preferences.
> 
> Typos are my own.
> 
> Circumstances are due to quarantine, but quarantine is not central to the story if that's not your cup of tea.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too much Love Island. That's basically it.

Freddie rolls his eyes when Auston lets the next episode of Love Island auto-play. “I’m leaving,” he says, matter-of-fact. 

It’s not an atypical reaction. He sat through three episodes. He can’t sit through a fourth. Auston knows this. But Auston isn’t stopping the fourth episode from playing. 

He watches as Auston’s eyes track his movement as he gets up from the couch. 

“I’ll be there soon?” Auston asks. “Last one. Promise.”

Freddie resists the urge to mutter something he’ll regret under his breath. He knows this is Auston’s current coping mechanism, and watching mindless TV is better than other vices. He’s stressed out, he’s bored, and it’s fine. “Okay,” Fred says instead before heading to his bedroom.

He knows that in about 57 minutes, Auston will come into his room, seeking out his company. That’s fine. Fred knows the pattern. Understands that maybe romantic TV shows make Auston a little horny. But tonight, he doesn’t feel like making this particularly easy for Auston, who, frankly, is a bit of a lazy lover on a good day.

No. Tonight it’s Freddie’s turn to be lazy. It’s been a solid eight days of terrible Netflix binge-watching, hours at a time, and Auston’s taking the whole Netflix & Chill approach a little too seriously. And using it to his advantage. It’s Freddie’s turn.

He lays down on his bed, on top of the duvet that Auston chose and readjusts the pillow he brought from Toronto under his head. Social media is boring right now. Same old crap. It’s a type of show-boating that Freddie has never been interested in. It’s a pointless pissing contest. So he scrolls and scrolls, specifically choosing not to like things he sees, on principle.

His door is open, so he can hear when Auston pads his way across the house towards his room. He doesn’t move. Just keeps staring at his phone. He glances up when Auston stands in the doorway. 

“Can I come in?” Auston asks, like he always does. Like it’s not his house that Freddie is staying in just so he isn’t alone in Toronto.

“‘Course.” Freddie’s voice is deeper from lack of use. He clears his throat. Still doesn’t move.

He watches as Auston sits down on the edge of the bed. “You okay?” he asks, eyebrow arched. 

It’s a loaded question and he knows what Auston is getting at. ‘Are you fed up with Love Island, or any of my other Netflix choices recently, enough to not want to fuck tonight?’

Freddie knows he can play this in a few ways, but, ultimately, they both want the same thing. They both want some kind of physical release that reminds them that they’re human. Even though there’s another dude living down the hall who is probably connecting his headphones to the TV right now so he doesn’t have to listen to them fucking. Like every other night.

So Freddie knows he can do one of several things, but his options are limited because Freddie isn’t about playing games. Especially not with Auston. Auston, who still won’t just say what’s on his mind. ‘You okay.’ Well, fuck, Aus. I’m not okay for a lot of reasons. I can list them alphabetically or chronologically, but am I okay to fuck? Yes. Yes I am. 

“C’mere,” Freddie says instead, dropping his phone to the bed and reaching his arms out. “But I’m not doing any of the work tonight. I’m fed up with you just fucking lying there while I do everything. So yes, I’m ‘okay,’ but I’m not lifting a fucking finger.”

Auston has the nerve to smirk at him, knowing he’s getting what he wants. “Testy tonight, huh?” 

Freddie rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so fucking lazy every night and I won’t have to get testy.” Fucking Auston’s fucking smirk is making him smile too. Asshole.

Auston leans in and presses his lips to Freddie’s before he murmurs, “we’ll watch whatever you want tomorrow.”

As if that hasn’t been promised every night since Freddie arrived. He knows who owns the remote. “I’m still not doing any of the work.”

Auston smacks the middle of Freddie’s chest playfully. 

Freddie looks up at him, eyebrows raised. “Really?” 

Auston just shrugs, stupid smirk still on his face. But at least he’s taking his shirt off now, so it’s fine. He pauses before he’s about to tug his shorts down. “You joining me, or what?” he asks.

Now it’s Freddie’s turn to shrug, knowing he can’t stop the smile on his face. There’s a reason he hasn’t been invited to the team’s card table this season, and it’s one hundred percent because he’s got the worst poker face. 

“Come on,” Auston complains. “I’m not taking your clothes off for you.”

Freddie doesn’t budge. He’s feeling particularly stubborn, but Auston was stubborn about his Netflix choices. It’s only fair.

“Jesus Christ, you fucking baby,” Auston says, tempering it with a smile as he tugs at the hem of Freddie’s t-shirt. Freddie sits up just enough to let Auston pull the shirt off before he flops back down onto the bed. Now it’s Auston’s turn to roll his eyes. He can’t be that bothered by it, though, because he still pulls Freddie’s shorts and underwear off.

Both of them are finally (blessedly) naked, and Auston just looks at Freddie for a moment, like he’s debating something. Then a slow shit-eating grin spreads across his face.

“What?” Freddie asks, curious what his favourite manipulator wants.

“I’m not going to ride you.” Auston frames it like a challenge. 

Freddie shrugs. “Looks like you’re not getting fucked, then.” He’ll die on this hill if he has to.

Auston grins wider, like he expected that response. “Exactly.” He pauses, takes a breath, lets it out. “I’m going to fuck  _ you _ .”

And, well, that’s never really been  _ off _ the table, but it’s never come up. Until now. “Fine.” Freddie says.

Auston stops, looks like he’s about to argue. “Wait– what? Seriously?”

Freddie shrugs again. “Yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow. Did Auston really not think he’d be down with that?

“But– no, seriously?” Auston manages to look really unsure, like Freddie’s about to chirp him for it, say he’s only kidding. “Why didn’t– Jesus, Fred. That’s it? It’s that easy? Wh–” he grunts. “Why haven’t we done that yet?” He’s sounding flustered for someone who’s getting what, apparently, he really wants.

“You never asked.” 

“You never offered!”

Freddie rolls his eyes. “Are you going to do this, or do I have to Prime myself a dildo? I left mine in Toronto.”

Sometimes it’s so easy to get Auston worked up. Or stun him into silence. This is one of those times, and it’s extremely satisfying for Freddie. 

“Fucking asshole,” Auston finally mutters under his breath.

“Yes. That’s what you’re suggesting and I’m agreeing to.”

Auston reaches into Freddie’s nightstand for the lube and a condom, tossing them onto the bed near Freddie’s head. “Sometimes I hate you,” he says, mock-upset.

Freddie smiles and reaches for him, pulling him down for a kiss. “Liar,” he whispers into Auston’s mouth, chasing the word with his tongue. 

Auston lays down on top of Freddie, slotting one leg between his. Freddie can’t stop the moan that rumbles out of his chest. Especially when Auston grinds against him, pushing his thigh hard against his cock.

This part has always been easy for them, ever since the first time. Ever since they got their heads out of their own respective asses and realized that they, in fact, wanted the exact same thing. Ever since they realized they liked being together. Coming, but together. They haven’t turned back.

Freddie feels restless all of a sudden, so he runs his hands up the length of Auston’s back. Then back down, cupping Auston’s ass as he grinds his hips up to meet him. It’s been a while since they’d done this, just rutting against each other. If Freddie remembers correctly, it was on his couch, Auston beneath him. They didn’t make it past that part of the evening’s festivities, so if Auston doesn’t do something different soon, they might be repeating history.

Auston seems too caught up in how this feels, so Freddie shifts a bit until his legs are spread a bit wider. Enough for Auston to fit between them. 

And the sound Auston makes is completely worth it. Freddie smiles and kisses at his shoulder. “Hussy,” he jokes.

Auston responds by biting at Freddie’s earlobe. The pain should bother Freddie, but it doesn’t. Not when Auston soothes over that spot with his tongue. Like  _ that _ . Fuck. He’s never liked that from anyone else, but Auston just makes it feel right. Auston makes a lot of things feel right. When he’s not being a lazy jerk, at least.

It’s a slow trek down his body, but Auston maps it well with lips and teeth and tongue. By the time he reaches Freddie’s cock, Freddie is leaking at the tip. 

Auston just arches an eyebrow at him when he sees it and doesn’t break eye contact as he licks against the slit. Or when he takes Freddie more fully into his mouth. He blinks a couple of times as he starts to take Freddie down his throat, but it’s forgivable. 

Freddie runs his fingers through Auston’s hair, noting how much longer it is. How unruly. It’s gorgeous and it suits him. Everything about Auston suits him.

He’s so caught up in that thought, and the feeling of Auston licking at his cock, that he almost misses when Auston opens the cap for the lube. Auston is coating his fingers and hesitates for a moment.

“Do it, Aus,” Freddie says, aiming for reassuring. He’s pretty sure it comes across as smitten. Which, well, it’s not entirely wrong.

Auston smiles and kisses the inside of his thigh, which only makes Freddie spread his legs apart farther to give him better access. “Who’s the hussy now?” Auston jokes, pushing his fingertip in.

Freddie huffs out a breath of laughter. He forgot how it feels, having a person do this for him instead of doing it to himself with a piece of silicone. It’s warmer and entirely unpredictable. He hasn’t bottomed for someone else in a long time, not because he hasn’t wanted to. It just hadn’t panned out that way. 

He didn’t realize how much he needed this until now. Until Auston is nudging a second finger alongside the first. He lets his eyelids flutter closed, just letting himself feel this. 

It’s good. Better than good. Auston seems to be reading him well because every time he feels Auston do something he likes, Auston does it again. And again. 

And too soon, Auston is withdrawing his fingers. Rubbing the skin on the insides of Freddie’s thighs.

Freddie knows Auston is giving him a chance to back out, but he wants this. Pretty desperately, actually. He blindly searches for the condom near his head and passes it to Auston. If that’s not a clear enough answer, Freddie doesn’t know how to help him.

Auston takes the condom and looks at him, opening the packet and rolling it down his length. “When was the last time you did this?” He grabs for the lube.

“It’s been a while,” Freddie admits. “Go easy on me.”

He half expects Auston to chirp him. He can’t say he wouldn’t do the same if their roles were reversed. But Auston gives him a fond smile and leans down to kiss him. “Of course,” he whispers.

Auston lines himself up then, so Freddie readjusts his legs until they’re hooked more comfortably around Auston’s hips. He takes a deep breath and as he lets it out, Auston breaches him. And stops. Waits. Freddie realizes in a heartbeat that Auston’s patience and self control are doing more for him than that time Auston sucked on his balls for twenty minutes.

He doesn’t know when he turned into such a fucking marshmallow inside, but it’s something to examine later.

Right now, he focuses on his breathing, on relaxing his muscles, which seem to remember this better than he expected them to. Auston is watching him, waiting, running a hand up his side. It makes him shiver, which only makes Auston smile. 

It takes him a couple of minutes to catch on, but Auston is trying to match his pace to Freddie’s breathing. He only pushes in, just a fraction at a time, when Freddie exhales. Something inside Freddie’s heart flips at that, and he feels a shiver deep in his bones. He’s not delicate by any means. He’s certainly not about to break, but he also doesn’t remember ever being with someone so attentive. He never really knows what to expect from Auston, but he’ll take this. And savour it. 

“Okay?” Auston asks, running his thumb over Freddie’s cheekbone. 

Freddie just nods in response, adjusting a little, inhaling more deeply. On this exhale, Auston bottoms out. There’s a moan, and Freddie doesn’t know or care which of them it came from. “Fuck,” he whispers, breath hitching as Auston leans down to nip at his neck. “Aus.” 

Auston moans softly. “Wanted you like this for a long time,” he says quietly.

Freddie leans up to kiss him properly. “You should learn to ask for what you want, I think,” he says between kisses.

He feels Auston’s smile against his lips. “Noted.” Auston bites gently at Freddie’s bottom lip, then lets it go, grazing his teeth along his jawline instead.

Freddie exhales, moaning softly. “While you’re taking notes,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically breathless, “I really, really like that.” 

Auston nips at the column of his throat. “Oh yeah?” Then he sucks a kiss against his skin, hard.

Freddie groans, turning his head to give Auston better access. “Yeah.” It comes out as a breath. 

And suddenly he needs more of Auston. He needs to feel him. Needs to feel him move inside him. Work him hard. So he digs his heels into the backs of Auston’s thighs and pulls him closer in. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Auston says sarcastically. “Did you want me to continue?” He’s beaming down at Freddie.

Freddie smiles back, wide and pleased. “Yeah.”

“Ja,” Auston mimics. He presses their foreheads together for a moment before he kisses Freddie. Then he pulls out, just a little, and pushes in slowly. Testing.

“Aus…” Freddie warns, losing patience.

“Fred…” He’s using Freddie’s tone against him, and Freddie couldn’t be more fond of the asshole.

Freddie huffs out a breath, half frustrated, half full of laughter.

Auston pulls out, a bit more this time, and pushes in harder. “I happen to like taking care of my things.” He punctuates it with his cock.

“I’m one of your things?” 

“You’re one of my favourite things,” Auston says, matter-of-fact.

It makes Freddie smile and his heart flip again. He loves when Auston is playful like this. He likes the banter. Reminds him that they haven’t lost anything they used to have before they started sleeping together. Sex just turned into another facet of their relationship. They have a history together that hasn’t vanished. It’s the best part of falling in love with your best friend, Freddie realizes.

Freddie pulls Auston closer for a kiss. It changes the angle enough that on Auston’s next upstroke, he glides against Freddie’s prostate. Freddie moans, soft and easy, and his legs spread apart more of their own volition. He wants Auston deeper. Can’t quite get enough. “More,” he whispers into Auston’s mouth. 

Auston is good enough to comply. 

He pushes into Freddie, deeper with each stroke, and it’s good. It’s better than Freddie remembers. He feels taken care of. But it’s Auston. Auston, who called him knowing he was stir crazy in Toronto. Knowing he was lonely. And gave him something so much better. 

It’s deeper, but it’s still not enough. 

Auston probably knows it too, because he stills his hips for a moment and pulls out. 

Before Freddie’s brain can catch up, Auston rests a hand on Freddie’s hip and nudges him gently. “Turn over,” he says gently, making space. 

Freddie does it without a second thought, moving to get on his hands and knees. 

The moment Auston pushes back into him is beautiful. Better still when Auston pulls on Freddie’s shoulder. “Up,” he says quietly, coaxing Freddie to kneel. 

Freddie rests his back on Auston’s chest and feels Auston’s arms wrap around his chest. Freddie feels safer, then, than he has in recent memory. He reaches his arm up and back, just to bring Auston’s face closer. Until Auston is kissing the back of his neck, his shoulder, anywhere he can reach. 

And when Auston fucks into him, finally with a bit more force, it’s enough to make Freddie groan with how fucking good it feels. “Oh god, Aus.”

“Yeah?” Auston says, sucking a mark into the crook of his neck. “You like that?”

Freddie nods, breathing, trying to calm himself down. But Auston keeps the angle perfect, like he’s found the right one and he knows it. 

Freddie could sob with how good it feels. How close he’s getting. He grasps at the arm Auston has, tight across his chest, and laces their fingers together. All he can do is hold on, let go of control.

Just when he thinks it can’t get any better, any more intense, Auston wraps his free hand around Freddie’s cock. Freddie moans so loud that no headphones in the world could drown out the sound. 

“That’s it, baby,” Auston says in his ear, biting gently on his earlobe again. “Love hearing you.”

Freddie knows he isn’t usually very vocal. He’s pretty reserved, pretty even-keeled, but Auston is playing him like a finely-tuned instrument. He doesn’t remember sex ever feeling this encompassing. He’s surrounded by Auston. Full of him. It should be too much, but it’s nowhere near enough. 

He never wants it to stop. 

“Getting close?” Auston asks as if he doesn’t know the answer. 

Freddie can barely manage more than a whimper. 

Auston presses his lips to the back of Freddie’s neck again and lets go of his cock, slows his hips. 

Something like panic nearly bubbles its way to the surface inside Freddie. 

But Auston shushes him, soothing. Kisses his shoulder. “Not ready for this to end yet.”

Freddie nearly sobs with relief. 

“Shhh. Me too, baby.” Auston holds him from behind, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Securely. “You’re being so good for me. Feel so good.” He kisses whatever skin he can reach. “Love how you sound right now.”

A whimper tears its way from Freddie’s throat. Auston likes to talk during sex sometimes, but not like this. Never like this. He likes to tell Freddie when he gets something right. Or wrong. Always banter. Always familiar. But not praise like this. Never that he’s being good. Never soothing words that wash over him and make him feel safe. 

“You’re gorgeous, Fred,” Auston whispers, trailing fingertips along the front of Freddie’s thigh. “You’re perfect.”

Freddie doesn’t know what to do with the emotions swirling around his chest. Doesn’t know how to begin to describe what he’s feeling. It’s intense. It’s almost too much. He tries to draw in a breath to tamp them down, but he’s nearly drowning in it. 

Auston presses a kiss behind his ear, soft, soothing. “Taking my cock so well,” he whispers. “You’re so good for me, Fred.”

Fred gasps in a breath, but there isn’t enough oxygen to fill his lungs. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room, filled instead with Auston. Freddie tries to breathe, tries to exhale, but all he manages is a strangled sob. 

“Shhhhh,” Auston murmurs, gently resting one hand on Freddie’s throat. Soft. Possessive. 

Something inside Freddie breaks. He clings to Auston’s arm. The one that’s holding him secure. Holding him safe. Surrounding him. 

Auston slowly bends them forward until Freddie can rest his head on his pillow, still surrounded by Auston. Still encompassed. Still full of him. 

He feels kisses along his cheek, dotting his skin. Featherlight but grounding him. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good, baby,” Auston whispers, gentle. “Make you come on my cock.”

Freddie nods, helpless. There’s nothing he wants more than that right now. Or ever again. 

Auston braces himself on the bed with his free arm, and starts fucking into Freddie. Slowly. Slowly. Drawing it out, and it’s so good. Auston is making him feel so good. 

Freddie knows he’s moaning, whimpering, nearly crying with it. He’s helpless to stop the sounds now. 

Auston moans too. “Touch yourself for me?” It’s no more a question than it is a command. 

But Freddie can’t. Physically can’t force himself to bring this closer to its conclusion. So he shakes his head, almost defiantly. 

“No?” Auston asks, voice light, breathless, full of a smile. He sighs, then chuckles. “You’re really going to make me do all the work, aren’t you?” 

Freddie smiles, breathing out a laugh. He has just enough energy to nod. To squeeze Auston’s fingers where they’re still interlaced with his own over his chest. 

Auston squeezes back, then readjusts so that elbow is taking his weight, freeing up his other hand so he can reach down to stroke Freddie’s cock. 

Freddie’s legs splay out wider, and it lets Auston get closer, resting his head between Freddie’s shoulder blades. 

“Oh god,” Freddie manages to exhale when Auston fucks into him. He didn’t know it could feel any better. “Oh god, like that.” It’s nothing like what he’s felt before. It’s never been like this with other partners. 

He wants to hold onto this moment. Wants to feel it, to have it linger. But he’s too far gone. Too close. “Aus.” He gasps, feeling his thighs tingle. Feeling the muscles in his abdomen start to quiver. “Aus,” he says again, more desperately. Desperate not to come. Not yet. 

But he can’t stop himself from pushing his hips back for more. 

“Fuck! Fuck, baby. I’m here,” Auston moans his skin. “So good– being so good for me.”

Freddie tries to hold off for as long as he can. Tries desperately, moaning it out between ragged breaths. 

“Come, Fred,” Auston nearly grits out, sounding like he’s holding off for Freddie. “Wanna feel you. Please.”

And that does it. 

Freddie feels his orgasm crest, washing over him, knocking him over, drowning him. He’s crying out into his pillow, holding desperately onto Auston’s arm. 

He can barely breathe. Barely wants to. Not if it means making this moment end. Making this feeling fade. 

But it does. It does with Auston still holding him, whispering into his skin, trailing soft kisses. Panting like they just did bag skates. 

Telling him he’s beautiful. Telling him he did so well. 

Telling him he’s everything. 

Freddie feels something break inside him for the hundredth time since they started sleeping together. The thousandth time since they became friends. 

“Need you,” he manages, barely a whisper, voice breaking. He needs Auston. Simple as that. He’s needed Auston from the moment they joined the team and he needed a friend who was also new to the city. Needed him more when they needed to escape that city last month. He needs to be around him. Needs to be with him. Needs to be in bed with him. Needs to be watching stupid TV shows and playing stupid games with trail mix when they’re stoned out of their minds. 

He feels Auston’s breath hitch as he takes in the words. Processes them. “I’m here,” he says, soft. “You know I’m here.” His lips press a gentle kiss into Freddie’s shoulder. “Need you too,” he whispers.

They lay there quietly, wrapped up in each other until they catch their breath. Until Auston starts to feel more like dead weight. He’s the first to move. 

He pulls out slowly, holding onto the condom, ties it off and aims for the trash can. He misses. 

Freddie can’t stop a bubble of laughter. He tries to hide it in the pillow, but it’s too late. Auston can see his shoulders shaking. 

So Auston digs a finger into his ribs. “Hey! What’s so funny?”

Freddie looks up, over his shoulder at him. “You,” he says, smiling. He sighs. “You make me really happy.” He knows he’s loopy from coming so hard. Knows he’s feeling soppy. But it’s true. 

He rolls over and pulls Auston down on top of him, into the space he was occupying a moment ago. 

Auston is half a second too late to realize. “Did you really just pull me into the wet spot? You fucking asshole!” He’s laughing but not exactly moving away. “I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said!”

Freddie presses their lips together. He’s feeling playful, relaxed, like there’s a weight off his chest now that he’s realized what he actually feels. Being comfortable with the fact he needs someone. “No, you don’t,” Freddie murmurs. Their legs are tangled up. If they don’t deal with this mess soon, they’ll be stuck together. Freddie is okay with that.

“When did you turn into such a softy?” Auston asks, smiling against Freddie’s lips. 

Freddie shrugs, running his hands along Auston’s skin. Wherever he can reach. “It’s your fault. It’s your stupid shows.”

Auston laughs. “I knew I’d wear you down!” He’s beaming, pressing playful kisses along Freddie’s neck and face and Freddie has to push him away, laughing. 

“Hate you,” Freddie mumbles, snuggling back into Auston’s arms. 

“We established that you don’t, actually.” Auston places a soft kiss to Freddie’s hair. 

Freddie huffs. “I might need you, but I don’t have to like you.” He bends a knee, planting a foot on the bed. He feels uninhibited, comfortable in his own skin. It’s Auston’s fault. “By the way, I like you more when you aren’t lazy in bed.” 

Auston hums. “Take it as a compliment. I like what you do so much that I feel no need to contribute or get in your way.” He can’t dodge Freddie’s swat in time. He laughs and takes a deep breath, sighing. He sounds so fucking happy.

Freddie takes a deep breath, smiling as he exhales. He runs his fingers along the inside of his own thigh, finding it slick with lube. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Which lesson is that?” Auston is watching Freddie’s fingers, seemingly captivated.

Freddie changes direction, sliding upwards to the mess on his stomach, down his side. Christ, he didn’t realize how  _ much _ he came. “If you want something, ask.”

Auston smiles, a mischievous look in his eye. “Guess I did. Worked out in my favour.” He takes his finger to run it through the mess on Freddie’s skin too. “We should clean up,” he says, swirling the come in a way that really shouldn’t be attractive. But it’s Auston. Freddie realized a while ago that almost everything he does is attractive. 

“Yeah, we should,” Freddie says, distracted. 

He watches, almost dazed as Auston draws his finger into his mouth, sucking it clean. Fucking hell. 

“Let me clean you up,” Auston says, eyelids heavy. 

Freddie knows he’s gaping at him. Knows that words exist, but he’s suddenly forgotten all of them. Especially after Auston leans down and starts licking at the mess on his stomach. “Fuck,” Freddie moans. If there’s one word to remember, he supposes that one’s fine.

Auston shifts so he’s lying down between Freddie’s legs, and keeps licking him clean. 

Freddie shouldn’t want this. He really shouldn’t. They could take care of this with a quick shower, but Auston is touching him and he can’t say no to Auston’s touch. 

Auston stops for a moment, closely examining Freddie’s skin, letting his eyes roam freely, lingering, making him feel worshiped more than self-conscious. Then Auston looks up into his eyes. “Next time,” he says, trailing a finger between Freddie’s legs. It makes Freddie shiver. “I want to come inside you. Without the condom.” He pauses, making sure that Freddie is processing this. “And then I’m going to eat you out.”

Freddie is stunned into silence. His cock gives the weakest twitch of interest, entirely unhelpful.

Auston sees it, smiles, but gets up, leaving Freddie there like that, to go to the ensuite. “I’m going to take a shower. You coming?”

Freddie gets up so quickly that he’s nearly dizzy from it. 

Fuck it. If this is what watching stupid shows on Netflix does to Auston, he can watch as many as he wants, as often as he wants. Forever.


	2. The One in the Pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scottsdale. Pool sex after sunset. Smut with emotions!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even pretend to know what these dudes get up to in real life. Probably not this. This story is just for fun and I'm really not making any actual assumptions about anyone's sexuality or preferences.
> 
> Typos are my own.
> 
> Circumstances are due to quarantine, but quarantine is not central to the story if that's not your cup of tea.

Freddie can’t remember whose idea it was to go swimming at night, but he’s not complaining. 

They had dinner, after Trevor cooked. Pesto salmon, asparagus, sweet potatoes. Always sweet potatoes. But it was delicious, and Freddie didn’t have to cook it. So again, he’s not complaining. 

He cleaned up, though. That’s part of the deal. Trevor cooks, he cleans, and Auston lives his best life because he’s not charging them rent. 

Trevor doesn’t get to fuck Auston the way Freddie does, though, so Freddie feels like Trevor is really pulling the short straw. Cooking for them, pretending they’re not fucking. Freddie would think of him as a third wheel, but Trevor is too busy taking photos of his food to notice. 

He doesn’t feel bad thinking that way either. He’s Auston’s friend. Not his. They just happen to be riding out this storm in the same boat. 

And either way, dinner’s been eaten, dishes are washed or are in the dishwasher, and now they’re all taking in the sunset from the pool. 

It really is gorgeous here. 

Freddie has never felt more balanced in his life. He’s eager for the season to start up again, sure. Eager to have this pandemic become a distant memory. But he’s not eager to leave this place. He’s not eager to leave Auston’s bed. Or his own bed when Auston’s sheets need to get washed. He’s not ready to give up their late nights and late mornings and ping pong and poolside lounging. He feels like he’s reliving his twenties, but without the pressure of working his way up to being a starting goalie for a franchise like the Leafs. 

So he soaks this moment in, floating in the pool.

Trevor leaves once it’s mostly dark out, with an offhand comment about not jizzing in the water because he wants to go for a swim in the morning before Auston and Freddie are willing to leave whichever nest they inhabit for the night. 

Freddie doesn’t mind that Trevor knows. Just like he doesn’t mind that Auston tells Trevor to go fuck himself. Just like he doesn’t mind that Auston manages to wait exactly three seconds after Trevor is inside before swimming over to him to cup his dick through his swim trunks. 

“Why’re you still wearing these?” Auston asks him, tugging at the waistband as if there was time beforehand to strip out of them. 

Freddie smiles and leans in to kiss Auston. It’s anything but chaste, which makes actually getting out of his trunks without drowning incredibly difficult. Luckily, he’s a skilled athlete. 

“Better,” Auston says, “but I still win.”

Freddie looks down and sees that Auston is holding his own barely-there shorts in his hand, underwater. How in the hell– no. No, it really doesn’t matter, because the end result is the same, and it’s the end result that makes Freddie moan appreciatively. 

“Always competing,” Freddie points out, swimming in closer still, once they toss their clothes aside. 

“Literally my job.” He’s wrapping his legs around Freddie’s waist like fucking Freddie is also his job. 

Freddie doesn’t mind. Especially not in the pool where he doesn’t have to actually hold Auston’s weight. He just slides his hands down Auston’s back until he’s cupping that perfect ass. Gives a congenial squeeze. 

“What do you feel like tonight?” Freddie asks, only because now that Auston knows Freddie will bottom for him, he seems kind of obsessed with the idea. 

Auston growls in his ear, clearly horny but frustrated. “Really want to eat you out. But I also really want you to fuck me tonight.” He grinds his cock against Freddie’s stomach. “It’s been forever.”

“It’s been maybe a week, Aus.”

Auston scowls. “Might as well have been forever. Fuck, I don’t know. You decide. I want everything.”

Easy. “Then we do everything.” Obviously.

Auston pulls away to look at him, incredulous, as if life could be so simple. Then the furrow in his brow eases. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Freddie smiles and turns them in the water so they’re closer to the pool deck. “Where do you want me?” He’s asking between kisses to Auston’s wet shoulder. 

“Who said that was happening first?” 

Freddie huffs out a laugh. “I did.”

Auston shakes his head before he presses their lips together. “Fuck me first. Please?” He nips at Freddie’s bottom lip. “Wanna try something.”

“You always ‘wanna try something,’” he says fondly. He’s always willing to try whatever something Auston wants, though, which is why Auston keeps wanting to try different somethings.

Auston hums, sliding his tongue between Freddie’s lips. “You’re always so accommodating.”

Freddie grunts. “I’ll learn my lesson one day.”

“No you won’t, because my ideas are amazing.” Auston smiles, cocksure. “Except–“

“Except.” Freddie laughs. That was the time Auston dropped a stainless steel vibrator on Freddie’s head. It was heavy. It really hurt. “Dummy.” He may have milked the injury a little more than usual because it meant having Auston run his fingers along his scalp when they were curled up on the couch together, and that’s always something that’s welcome. “So what amazing idea do you have this time?” He’s more curious than anything. He really would try just about anything. He knows Auston is always open to his whims too. 

Auston hums into his jaw, featherlight kisses trailing lower to his pulse point. “I want to know if I can make you come more than once.”

Freddie laughs. Actually laughs. Because of course that’s what Auston needs to find out. “You’re–“ he doesn’t know what. Incorrigible? Yes. Insatiable? Obviously. Adorable and overly competitive? Very much so.

“What? What am I?” Auston‘s beaming at him, smile bright despite the darkness outside. 

Freddie hugs him tighter. “Perfect.”

“Didn’t think you’d complain.”

Freddie nuzzles into Auston’s neck, basking in the warm Arizona evening, the quiet surrounding them, the feel of the water. “Never.” He feels so fucking happy. “I know better,” he jokes. 

Auston hums. “If you know so well, why haven’t you put your dick in me yet? I could kick you out of the house for that.”

“Wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely would. I will. You’ve got one minute to do it or I’m sending you back to Toronto.”

Freddie huffs out a laugh. “Liar.” And as much as he’d really like to call Auston’s bluff, he really also just wants to fuck Auston. “Did you bring lube?”

“Did I bring–” Auston trails off, pushing his way out of Freddie’s arms to swim towards the edge closest to the deck chairs. “What the fuck do you think?” He climbs effortlessly out of the pool, gorgeously wet and naked, and reaches into the folds of his towel to produce a bottle. “Did I bring lube. Jesus.”

He tosses it to Freddie who catches it without hesitation. He looks at the label, hard to make out in the darkness, while Auston climbs back into the water. All he can see is the word silicone before he growls appreciatively. “Good boy.”

Auston preens at that. “Now use it before I call you a cab.”

Freddie opens the cap and squeezes some onto his fingers. Auston is waiting with his back against the ledge of the pool, arms outstretched so his hips can float. 

“You wouldn’t even drive me yourself?” He slides his fingers between Auston’s legs underwater, searching blindly in the dark for Auston’s hole. “That’s kind of rude.”

Auston grabs Freddie’s wrist and guides him in where he needs him. “You’d be the rude one for not fucking me fast enough.”

Freddie finally gets one finger lined up and pushes it in. He’s slow, gentle like always. There’s something about being able to swim his way closer so Auston is almost across his lap while he does this. Like they’re defying gravity. That’s pretty much what his heart feels like when they’re together anyway, so it’s nice that their bodies have finally caught up. 

In the faint moonlight, Freddie watches Auston’s eyes slip shut, just feeling. “Better?” Freddie asks softly, searching out his prostate. He finds it, feels the slight, answering shiver through Auston’s body.

“You can stay,” Auston says, voice like silk. 

He’s gorgeous like this, Freddie realizes. He realizes it about a thousand times a day. But tonight, floating, waiting for Freddie to take care of him– he’s perfect. 

“Time’s ticking,” Auston says after a moment, eyes still closed but a smirk across his face. Even in the dark, it’s stupidly charming. “I’ll change my mind if you don’t hurry up.”

Freddie rolls his eyes, the gesture lost to the night, and adds another finger. “I feel like blackmailing me for sex is illegal.”

Auston moans at the stretch, pushing back against Freddie’s fingers like he’s looking for more still. “Sue me. I like it when you fuck me.”

“Good thing I like fucking you.” He’s tempted to lean down and suck on one of Auston’s nipples. There’s no reason not to, so he does. 

Auston arches into it, a hitch in his breath.

Freddie knows he can do better than a hitch. So he sucks harder, holds it between his teeth for a moment before he licks at the nub. 

It earns him a gasp and a moan. 

So he doubles his efforts and pinches, twists gently with his fingers. 

Auston moans out, almost growling. “Stop it or I’ll come.”

“Then come.”

Auston’s eyes fly open. “I swear to god, if you don’t put your dick in me so I can come on it, you’re sleeping somewhere else.”

Freddie smiles wide and pulls out his fingers. “I love it when you talk sweet to me.” He lubes up his cock and swims between Auston’s legs. 

He pushes in before Auston even has a chance to wrap his legs around Freddie’s hips. 

Once he does, Freddie pulls them together, away from the wall. The last time they were like this was in the shower, but now they’re basically weightless with less chance of falling. 

They both moan at the realization, pressing together for a kiss. It’s deep, just like Freddie’s cock, just like Freddie’s emotional investment in the person wrapped around him. 

He pulls them tighter together. 

“What’s your plan?” He asks Auston, trying to distract himself from how good it feels being buried deep in Auston, being surrounded by Auston’s legs and arms. By the water. By the night sky. 

“Wha–“ It takes Auston a moment to form words. “What plan?”

“How are you going to make me come more than once?” He asks Auston’s neck. Kisses it after. “Fastest I’ve tried it a second time was probably half an hour. And that was pushing it.”

Auston moans, Freddie assuming he found the right spot, and nips at Freddie’s bottom lip. “Fuck, right there.” He moans again when Freddie complies. “I’ve been doing some research.”

Freddie smiles against Auston’s lips. “Porn isn’t research.”

Auston digs his heel into Freddie’s back. “Bitch. I’ve been reading.”

“Congratulations?” he murmurs into Auston’s neck, trying to hide his smile. He’s not surprised when Auston reaches between them to twist his nipple. Hard. “Oww. Talk me through it.”

He thrusts into Auston, angle clearly working for both of them. 

Auston moans, arms slipping a bit from Freddie’s shoulders. Freddie dips them a little lower into the water. 

“God, I’ve missed this.”

Freddie isn’t sure if Auston means his cock, pool sex, or being naked in the pool, but he’s not sure it matters. Though he feels irrationally jealousy of the person who last had pool sex with Auston, since it wasn’t him. He makes up for it by thrusting even deeper into Auston. 

“Missed your fucking cock so much, baby,” Auston moans. 

The jealousy disappears in a breath. Freddie whispers a kiss of apology against Auston’s cheekbone. Auston is oblivious to the entire thing, but it makes Freddie feel better. “Multiple orgasms, Aus,” he says as a reminder. “How are you making it happen?”

If he’s expected to do anything differently than usual, Freddie wants to find out sooner rather than later. He’s only human, and time is pretty much running out. 

Auston makes a choked off sound as Freddie fucks into him a little harder. He loves fucking Auston senseless. 

“Fuck, Fred,” he moans. He looks like he’s trying to think, remember what he read. “Fucking hell. Stop distracting me for a second.”

Freddie stops, fully seated inside Auston. And waits patiently. 

“Before you come, pull out.” Auston licks water droplets from Freddie’s neck, just below his ear. “Fuck. Gotta squeeze at the base. Massage your prostate.”

Freddie squeezes his ass, cock throbbing at the thought. 

“Have to make you come without letting you blow your load.”

“Fuck…” Freddie pulls Auston tighter on his cock. 

“Then I do it again.” Auston kisses his neck. “And again.” His jawline. “And again.” His lips. 

Freddie opens his mouth for Auston’s tongue, teasing, completely at odds with how hard he is inside Auston. 

“Make me come,” Auston says into Freddie’s mouth, grinding down with the little purchase either of them can find in the water. “Make me come, then I’ll make you come.”

Freddie doesn’t need to be asked twice. But now he’s curious. Curious in an experimental way. Curious in a competitive way. Because that’s also literally his job.

So he fucks Auston. Holds his hips, pushes them down, pushing him hard over his cock. It’s easier in the water, keeping Auston where he wants him. Easier to work him. Easier to bury deeper into him. 

Auston is moaning as if they aren’t outside. As if Trevor can’t hear them through his window on the other side of the house. 

But Freddie isn’t complaining. The truth is, he’s so easy for Auston. He gets off on the sounds Auston makes, the way his breathing speeds up. The feeling of his fingers digging deep into his back when he’s clinging to him. It’s all a reminder of how much Auston wants him. 

And Freddie feels that way too. He feels it tenfold. 

“Oh fuck, baby,” Auston moans shamelessly. Freddie feels it in his cock. “Fuck, I’m close.”

Freddie is too, but he needs to try something first. He works a hand between them, almost losing his grip on Auston. 

“I’ll do it–“ Auston says, because he probably thinks Freddie is going to jerk him off. 

But no, that’s not what Freddie has in mind. He’d rather be underhanded and play at Auston’s game.

He doesn’t have the leverage to keep a firm hold of Auston in the water, so he gets them close to the nearest wall and presses Auston against it. Then, because he’s really good at following instructions, he squeezes his fingers into a ring around the base of Auston’s cock. 

Auston catches on too late, helpless to stop Freddie from stealing his idea. 

Freddie’s thrusts get more shallow, more directed at Auston’s prostate, and he slows down until his cock is pressed at just the right spot at just the right time, and Auston is coming. 

But not coming. 

Freddie watches, in awe, as Auston’s body spasms its way through the motions of an orgasm. He cries out, arches against the edge of the pool, and presses himself against Freddie’s cock.

Freddie’s never seen something hotter. 

“Oh god. Oh fuck, I hate you so much,” Auston moans, body shivering as Freddie moves in closer, releasing Auston’s cock. It’s still hard. “You fucking bastard.” He sounds like he ran a marathon. 

Freddie smirks, smug. “Did I do it right?” He presses his lips against Auston’s, but Auston bites him.

Freddie retaliates by slowly, smoothly continuing to fuck Auston’s asshole. He’s taking his time, being careful, giving Auston a moment to recover. He’s an opportunist, maybe, but he’s not cruel. 

“Hate you so fucking much,” is all Auston says in response, pushing away from the wall so he can wrap himself around Freddie again. He’s like an octopus.

“I can see that.” He pushes his cock deep into Auston, keeping his thrusts slow. He can feel quivers in Auston’s muscles, like he’s overstimulated but still desperate for more. 

Freddie presses his lips against Auston’s in apology. Auston doesn’t hesitate to suck on Freddie’s tongue this time, so he guesses he’s forgiven. And then he bites Freddie again. Maybe not. 

“Fuck, Fred,” Auston says, halfway between awe and anger. “Fuck, I need to come.”

Freddie pushes Auston down hard. “You just did, sweetheart.”

Auston groans. It sounds like the frustration is winning. “Don’t fucking ‘sweetheart’ me when you stole my idea. Fuck. That felt so fucking good, you _ dickhead _.”

Freddie tries really hard not to smile, but he’s unsuccessful. He just wants Auston to feel half of what he feels every time they’re together. So he tells him as much. 

“Fucking charming dickhead,” Auston moans. Then he cries out. “Oh god.” Freddie pushes in hard and fast. “Fuck, Fred.” He’s gripping tight onto Freddie’s shoulders. 

“Don’t be such a sailor,” Freddie manages, grunting as he gets closer himself.

Auston lets out a growl, almost squirming in Freddie’s arms as Freddie thrusts hard and deep. “Fine. I’ll do whatever the fuck you want if it means you’ll do that again.”

Freddie knows Auston is close again. That he never really stopped being close. So he gets them near the pool’s stairs at the shallow end. 

He pulls his cock out completely, ignoring the crazed look in Auston’s eye as he guides Auston to lay back against the top stairs. Freddie looks at him, watching his cock bob above the water. Without a word, he pushes three fingers back inside Auston and takes his cock into his mouth. 

Auston gasps as Freddie works his fingers over his prostate, massaging it. There’s barely time for him to take a breath before Auston is clenching around his fingers and nearly doubling over from the intensity of his orgasm as it hits him. 

Auston cries out, and Freddie knows with absolute certainty that, forget Trevor, the neighbours several streets away can hear him. He doesn’t care, though. He cares that he’s able to do something that feels so intense for Auston. So intense that Freddie is nearly choking on Auston’s cock. On the amount of come he’s swallowing. 

Fuck, it’s hot. It’s hot watching him shake with it. Hearing him mumble incoherently, gasping for breath. Freddie swears he sees tears trail down his cheeks before he covers his face with his hands. 

That really shouldn’t make his cock twitch.

After a few more moments Auston pushes Freddie off his cock, spent and oversensitive. 

Freddie kisses the inside of Auston’s thigh to soothe the shaking muscles and starts to withdraw his fingers. But Auston whines, reaching for Freddie’s wrist to keep his hand where it is. “Not yet.”

The aftershocks keep coming, Auston shaking through them, clenching down on Freddie’s fingers with each wave. Freddie soothes him gently with his free hand, trailing his fingers over the muscles in Auston’s chest, his stomach, his legs. 

He’s fucking beautiful. Wet, shaking, gorgeous. Freddie has to focus on the feel of Auston’s goosebumps under his fingers so he doesn’t come undone himself.

After what feels like several minutes, Auston nudges Freddie’s wrist away, so Freddie slowly withdraws his fingers. He doesn’t expect Auston to move, let alone sit up and slide back into the water. He wraps himself around Freddie again. 

“Fuck me, Fred.” 

Oh god, always. But Freddie worries it’ll be too much. “Aus, are you sure?” 

Auston leans in to kiss him, deep, filthy, like he’s trying to taste himself on Freddie’s tongue. “Need to feel you come. Please, baby, fuck me.”

Auston reaches down and lines Freddie up to his hole. He can feel Auston’s muscles shaking, so he wraps his arms tighter around him, holding him close as he pushes in again. 

They both moan, clinging to one another. 

Freddie is close. He’s been close for a while, if he’s being honest. But he’s right on the edge now. And Auston knows it. 

“You feel so good,” Auston says softly into his ear like a prayer. “Fuck, baby. That’s it.”

He keeps making soft sounds that will be the death of Freddie. 

But what finally does it is when Auston presses their foreheads together and whispers, “I love how you make me feel, Fred.”

It’s the closest to those three words either of them has ever said. It probably shouldn’t be the tipping point for Freddie, but it is. 

It is because it’s borrowed time they’ve found together in Scottsdale. Nothing about life seems real anymore except for Auston. Auston, who’s pulling himself down on Freddie’s cock like it’s all that matters in the world. And for the entire time he’s been in Scottsdale, the only thing in the world that’s mattered is Auston. The two of them, safe in this bubble. That’s something he needs to tell him. There’s only one way for him to say it.

So he gasps, hips stuttering, trying to breathe in enough to get the words out of his lungs before he thinks himself out of it.

“Love you, Aus,” Freddie whispers against his lips, stilling his hips so the words can just hang. 

And that’s it. It’s in the open now. It feels as tangible to him as the person wrapped around him.

Until he feels Auston pull his face away. 

A cold shock of panic slides down Freddie’s spine. He immediately second-guesses himself. He’s obviously crossed a line, a boundary, broken through that safety net of happiness they were living in. And now he’s poured his emotions all over it, smothering it, ruining it. He–

“I love you too,” Auston says, looking stunned. A shocked huff of breath. “Holy shit, Fred.”

Freddie’s heart stutters to a halt in his chest. He’s frozen, cock still hard inside Auston. And Auston just stares at him, face breaking into the brightest, most beautiful smile.

It takes Freddie’s breath away. So does the way Auston forces himself down on Freddie’s cock. “Fuck, I’ve loved you for a really long time, you fucking idiot. Now finish already.”

Freddie wants to laugh, delirious. Auston grinds down against him and Freddie’s body takes over where his heart has short circuited his brain. He thrusts hard and deep. 

Somewhere alongside the absolute mess of emotions swirling in his chest, Freddie comes with such force that he doesn’t know how he’s keeping his footing. 

He whimpers into Auston’s mouth, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can. 

Auston shivers through it with him, commiserating, overstimulated. 

And then there’s nothing but Auston’s voice, Auston’s hands, Auston. “God, baby. Good boy. Fill me up, sweetheart.” There are kisses along his temple, along his cheekbone, and the centre of his forehead. “I love you so fucking much.”

Freddie is gasping, clinging to Auston. He barely manages to whimper Auston’s name. 

“Yeah, baby. I know, Fred.”

He whimpers again, eyes closed tight.

Their mouths come together in a messy, desperate kiss with Freddie struggling to pull Auston closer to him. Auston’s limbs wrap even tighter around Freddie. 

There’s no space left between them, but they’re still too far apart. 

—

Later, they move to the oversized lounger on the deck, having hastily dried each other off so they could curl up naked together. 

Their fingers are interlaced, Freddie’s head resting on Auston’s shoulder. Neither of them has said anything louder than a whisper. Neither of them needs to.

Freddie watches Auston’s fingertip trace over some of the trails of water the towel didn’t catch. Then, as Auston chases those droplets with his tongue. 

“I’ve never come so hard in my life,” Auston says softly from somewhere near Freddie’s chest. He’s sprawling across the lounger now, and Freddie has become his pillow.

It makes Freddie smile. All of this makes him smile. He’s had more quality orgasms in Scottsdale than he’s had his entire life prior, so he can only imagine how good it felt for Auston. “Thanks for the idea,” he finally says.

Auston rests his chin on Freddie’s stomach and looks up at him with big eyes, made brighter by a light casting a soft glow from inside the house. “It’ll be nice having all our stuff in one room when we come back here in the off-season.”

Freddie smiles, seeing it for exactly what it’s meant to be. A promise. “Use the guest room when we run out of sheets again.”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Freddie takes a deep breath and lets it out, Auston still watching him. “Remind me to call my parents tomorrow.”

“Call your parents tomorrow.” There’s that smirk again. 

Freddie rolls his eyes but reaches down to gently run his thumb along Auston’s cheek. “I meant remind me tomorrow.” 

Auston kisses his stomach, crawling up so they could get closer again. As if those two minutes apart were too long. “I will. Do you want to just call them now? They’re probably already awake.” 

Freddie shakes his head, heart swelling at the knowledge that Auston also keeps a running tab on what time it is in Denmark. “Don’t want to move. Don’t want you to move.” He weaves his fingers through Auston’s hair, teasing out damp curls. “I’ll wake up early to call them when they get home from work.”

“You’ve been saying that for days, which is why you’re still asking me to remind you to call them tomorrow,” Auston teases. He curls closer into him, lacing their fingers together again. “The longer you put it off, the more annoyed your mom is going to be that you’re ignoring her.”

“I’m not ignoring her. We’ve been busy.”

“Having sex. You’ve been ignoring her for sex.”

Freddie laughs. “Sex is more fun.”

Auston hums in agreement, snuggling in before he trails his fingers playfully down Freddie’s side.

It’s a clear night out, so Freddie can see the stars. The same as those he grew up watching as a child. It’s another reminder that everything about Auston feels like home.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the goosebumps he gets when Auston trails his hand lower, along his hip, down his thigh.

Auston moves to rest his head on Freddie’s shoulder, giving Freddie a better view of Auston mapping out his skin. 

It feels nice, relaxing, intimate without being sexual. So Freddie lets his legs fall open, uninhibited. 

“What’s up? You want to go again?” Auston asks him, not in a suggestive way. Just curious. 

Freddie shakes his head. “Not yet. It just feels nice, having you touch me.”

“Well, touching you feels nice.” 

Freddie shivers at the words, at the feeling of Auston dragging a fingertip in the crease between his hip and his cock. Up through his short pubic hair, then up his stomach. 

“I love that,” Freddie whispers, closing his eyes. Having Auston touch him, just have his hands on him, outside in the dark, pressed close together. It’s the happiest he remembers being in a while.

Auston leans down to press a kiss to his chest, right above his heart. “Yeah. Me too.”


	3. The One with Ice Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scottsdale. The boys got some ice time. Freddie overdid it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even pretend to know what these dudes get up to in real life. Probably not this. This story is just for fun and I'm really not making any actual assumptions about anyone's sexuality or preferences.
> 
> Typos are my own.
> 
> Circumstances are due to quarantine, but quarantine is not central to the story if that's not your cup of tea.

It felt so good to be back on ice. Finally. Freddie wouldn’t have had the opportunity to spend as much time on it as he would have in Toronto, but luckily he’s in Arizona. Arizona’s rules are different. Arizona means ice time now.

It means finally having skates on, pads on, equipment on. It means finally getting some edge work in. It means cold arena air instead of Arizona heat.

But. Ice time and equipment and edge work and cold mean using muscles he hasn’t used in months. And he may have overdone it. A little.

Maybe a lot.

The problem is that he doesn’t have the embarrassment of riches he’d have in Toronto. He doesn’t have access to training staff, skills coaches, treatments. But he has ice time, so he’ll manage without the rest.

He’s been using the roller and stretching on the floor downstairs where it’s cooler. If he was in Toronto instead of at Auston’s house, he’d be on a treatment table, grunting his way through whatever torture the trainers would be putting him through. Torture for his own benefit. He’d be making the rounds. But he’s in Arizona. He has Auston’s equipment. Whatever else they could order from Amazon.

Right now, Auston’s cleaning up after dinner. Freddie cooked, though he doesn’t know how his legs held up through the process, and now he’s working through the tension in his hip adductors he hasn’t felt in forever. If it was just a typical case of DOMS it would almost be satisfying. But it’s a bit beyond that. This just fucking hurts.

He probably, definitely overdid it. 

He’s upset with himself for not taking it more slowly in the past couple of days, barrelling through his usual on-ice work instead of easing in. He knows better. But he was excited. Eager. There’s only a finite amount of ice time available, only so many waking hours, only so many weeks until the next Phase starts, and he’s trying to maximize everything he can. There’s only so much he’s able to control in his life at the moment, though, as a result of his eagerness, his legs are now no longer on that list.

Freddie’s gritting his teeth through one more stretch. He’s struggling to get the leverage he needs. He’s struggling to get the stretch deep enough to help. He’s done this thousands of times, but he really could use a hand.

He’s so focused on easing into the last of it, giving up for the day, that he doesn’t hear Auston come down the stairs. 

“Hey,” Auston says, nearly making Freddie jump. “I was going to take Felix out.” He comes up closer, probably seeing the tension Freddie knows he can’t hide from his face. “Still bad, eh?”

“Eh,” Freddie teases. He tries to readjust but it feels futile. “Can’t stretch it deep enough.”

Auston looks thoughtful. “How can I help? Need an extra push?”

He’s a saviour, is what he is. In so many ways. “Actually, yeah, maybe.” Auston has trainers too. The same ones, in fact, so Auston will know what he needs.

Freddie gets back into position, sitting straight with the soles of his feet together, knees splayed open. 

Auston seems to know right away what to do. He kneels behind Freddie, puts his hands on Freddie’s knees, and helps push them down more. 

Freddie groans, grateful. It’s perfect. It’s exactly what he’d been missing. 

Auston just laughs at him. “That the spot?”

“Fuck yes,” Freddie murmurs, caught between relaxing into it and fighting what Auston is making his muscles do. Relaxing wins in the end, and after a moment he finds himself leaning back a little against Auston. 

Auston presses a little harder and holds him there. 

It feels good. Really good. It’s finally the depth Freddie was looking for. He counts to thirty, revelling in how perfect this is. He moans softly and opens his eyes, not having realized they’d slipped shut. Then he huffs out a laugh. “Hmm, this was a mistake,” he says softly. 

Auston stops. Waits. Starts to back off. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

Freddie takes one of Auston’s hands from his knee and slides it towards his crotch, pressing it to the erection growing in his shorts.

Auston barks out a laugh. “Hussy.” His fingertips trace the outline of Freddie’s cock. “Wait, hang on. Does this happen with the trainers too?”

“You want me to say yes?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Then, no. Absolutely not.”

Auston eases up and smacks Freddie’s shoulder. “You’d better be serious.”

“Of course, idiot.” Freddie stretches his legs out in front of him and lays down on his back. 

Auston smirks at him, hovering for a moment before he leans down to kiss him. Soft. Disappointingly chaste. “I have to go take Felix out,” he whispers apologetically as he starts to pull away. 

“You decided you wanted a dog during a pandemic,” Freddie whispers back. He kisses Auston once more before playfully shoving him back and sits up. “Go. Before he makes a mess that I’ll wind up cleaning.”

“You’re not coming with me?” Auston asks.

Freddie shrugs as he readjusts himself in his shorts. “Maybe I’ll stay here and entertain myself,” he jokes. He’s actually worried his legs might not cooperate on the hills and he’d rather not do more damage before getting back on the ice tomorrow. 

“I promise I’ll entertain you when we get back.”

“You just want me there as a hired goon in case that old neighbour tries telling you about her cats again and Felix starts chasing her.”

“Don’t blame Felix. That lady smells like sausages. And who said I was paying you, goon?”

Freddie works his lip between his teeth. “...hmm. Good point.”

“Come. Keep me company.” He presses a kiss to Freddie’s neck. “I miss you when you’re not with me.”

Freddie sighs. He hates that he has absolutely no self control when it comes to Auston. His brain is already trying to convince him that maybe the walk will warm up his muscles, loosen them a little. In the very least it’ll loosen the tension he feels when Auston isn’t with him. He specifically doesn’t think about what that’ll mean when they’re back in Toronto. “Fine, I’ll come.” Because they’re still here, in Arizona, together. “But if my legs stop working you’re carrying me home.”

Auston beams at him. “Deal. If they stop working I’ll even give you a massage when we get back.”

“You’re making me not want my legs to work, Aus.”

—

By the time they’re back, Freddie’s legs are feeling good. Warm. Not quite loose, but no worse off. And Felix is about ready to pass out, so mission accomplished. 

“What do you want to watch tonight?” Auston asks him. 

Freddie shrugs. “You pick. I’ll go stretch first.” He starts making his way down the stairs to the basement. There’s a roller calling his name.

Auston eyes him for a moment, setting down the remote. “I’ll come with you.”

Freddie looks over his shoulder and smiles fondly. “You just want to ogle.”

“That too,” Auston says with a wink. 

When they get downstairs, Freddie goes through a series of stretches. There’s significantly less pain than he felt earlier in the day, and he’s just left with a dull ache. He breathes into a deep lunge, feeling good. 

By the time he’s settling into a frog pose, Auston is leaving his spot where he’s been sitting on the arm of the couch, watching. “Need a hand?”

Freddie looks at him with a smile. “Sure.”

Auston kneels down behind him and rests his hands on Freddie’s hips. He presses a soft kiss to the back of Freddie’s neck. “Ready?” he whispers. 

“Ready,” Freddie whispers back.

The initial stretch in his adductors is just shy of too sharp, but he breathes into it and relaxes. It’s the depth he had earlier, the depth he needs. It’s also the feeling of Auston behind him, Auston’s hands on his hips that he also needs. Par for the course.

“How’re you doing?” Auston asks quietly, breaking the focus Freddie didn’t realize he’d slipped into. 

He just groans indulgently. “Every time you put your hands on me….” 

“Want me to stop?”

“No,” he says immediately. “And no.” He’d really rather this progressed completely and without pause, thank you.

Auston laughs and kisses the back of Freddie’s neck again. “Then you go ahead and tell me when we’re done stretching.”

Freddie shifts so his muscles get a slightly different pull for a moment and relaxes into it. “Okay. Probably now.”

Auston eases back, letting go of Freddie’s hips, giving him space to sit up. 

Freddie takes Auston’s hands and puts them where they’re needed the most. 

“God, I love you, Fred,” Auston murmurs into the crook of Freddie’s shoulder as he cups Freddie through his shorts.

There’s something about having Auston’s arms around him from behind, holding him. It makes him feel less big. Lets him feel treasured in a way he hasn’t with other partners. Sometimes he just wants to be the little spoon. Sometimes he doesn’t. But it’s nice knowing that when he needs to feel Auston hold him, he can. “Love you more.”

“Is that an argument you really want to have right now?” Auston asks, giving Freddie’s cock a gentle squeeze. 

Freddie huffs out a laugh. “You just don’t want to lose.” He reaches his head back so he can give Auston’s cheek a kiss. “We’re wearing too much,” he whispers. 

“Then let’s fix that,” Auston whispers back. 

Freddie smiles and wraps his arms around Auston’s, holding him tight for a moment before letting go. “Do you even have lube down here?”

“Oh, do we need some?” Auston smiles. Freddie can hear it in his voice. “You know me better than to ask me if I have lube.” He gets up and walks over to the couch, reaching between the couch cushions. He digs for a moment before he proudly presents a bottle. 

“You’re lucky Felix didn’t get to that first,” Freddie says as he takes off his shirt, then his shorts and underwear in one go. 

He lays down on the mat, actually taking a moment to think about how they’re down here instead of in any of the many beds available in the house. Then he realizes that he doesn’t care as long as he has Auston.

He lets his legs fall open as soon as Auston’s close. It feels good on his muscles, laying there like that. 

Auston blinks a few times. “How do you expect me to function when you just–” He swallows loud enough that Freddie can hear it. “Do that.” 

“Do what?” Freddie’s being coy. He knows exactly what he looks like right now.

Auston gestures vaguely. “Exist.”

Freddie smiles up at him, sitting up until he’s resting on his elbows so he can capture Auston’s lips in a kiss. “You managed fine before you met me.”

“Yeah,” Auston says, soft. “But now I know what I was missing.” He pulls back to take off his own shirt. Freddie helps him with his shorts and underwear.

“Come here,” Freddie says when Auston’s finally naked. He pulls Auston until he’s kneeling over Freddie’s chest, straddling him. Freddie isn’t in any rush, but he doesn’t hesitate before taking Auston’s cock into his mouth.

He loves this part. Loves taking Auston apart. Loves the way Auston looks surprised every time Freddie does something for him, like he can’t quite believe any of this is real.

And maybe it isn’t. Maybe Arizona is like summer camp. Dreamy, perfect, full of unique fashion statements, but with an end date. 

What he feels for Auston is real, though. Being holed up together for months, basking in the sunshine, fucking whenever they want. All that has been real, too. And while there’s a definitive end date now, Freddie hopes their friendship will keep this strange bubble around them from bursting. 

But he doesn’t want to get maudlin. Not now. Not with Auston’s cock nearing his throat. So he pushes the thoughts and the anxiety aside and focuses instead on Auston. 

Freddie hears him groan softly above him, breath already slightly ragged. Freddie’s causing that. He’s causing Auston’s eyelids to flutter closed. Auston’s head to fall forward while he just feels. And Freddie just feels a surge of power, of control. It’s the same feeling he gets when he’s about to shut out a game. 

Auston starts pulling back, pulling out of Freddie’s mouth. “You’re gonna get me too worked up,” he murmurs, voice rough. He shimmies back until he can lean down to press his lips against Freddie’s.

Freddie just sighs softly into Auston’s mouth, running his hands along Auston’s skin. It seems neither of them is in a rush.

Auston shifts again, until they’re more or less lined up with his legs on either side of Freddie’s hips.

Freddie’s hands keep roaming. They take in the smoothness of Auston’s back. The perfect shape of his ass. The rougher texture of his hair-covered thighs. He could do this for hours, just lazily touching Auston. 

And Auston doesn’t seem to be objecting. Instead, he lazily keeps kissing Freddie. Starting with his lips, then his jaw, then down his neck.

Freddie gives him easy access, loving the attention. Loving what Auston does to him without trying.

Auston smiles against his skin. “You’re so easy for me.”

“Obviously,” he murmurs. He’s sincere about it because it’s true. 

Auston kisses him just below his ear. “How are your legs?”

Freddie shrugs a little. He hasn’t thought about them so they can’t be that bad. “Fine? Better maybe?” His hands trail back up to Auston’s shoulders, then down his arms. “Why?”

Auston shivers with goosebumps. “Want to fuck you. Seeing you spread out like that for me...” He grinds his hips against Freddie’s. “Like a fucking treat.”

“Then fuck me.” Freddie reaches to kiss at Auston’s throat. “Spread me out like a fucking treat.”

“Fuck, Fred.” Auston sounds dazed. Like he can’t quite believe Freddie is his. Like he’ll never get tired of this. The sentiment is mutual. It’s always been mutual. 

Auston pulls away, leaving behind a perfect drop of precome on Freddie’s stomach. He watches Auston press it into Freddie’s skin with his thumb like a brand. 

Freddie takes a shuddering breath. He lets it out slowly though his mouth, watching Auston. “I love you,” he whispers.

“Love you too, baby,” Auston whispers, bending down to kiss the wet mark on Freddie’s skin. “You have no idea.”

Auston moves his way lower until he’s kneeling between Freddie’s legs. He runs his palms over the front of Freddie’s thighs, down to his calves. Then back up. Slowly. Then steadily over his torso. 

He follows his hands with kisses next. Auston starts at Freddie’s stomach, moves slowly up to his chest, takes a quick detour up to Freddie’s lips that makes Freddie smile, then back down, lower, lower until he can take Freddie’s cock into his mouth. 

He doesn’t though, which makes Freddie laugh. “Tease,” he whispers, stretching a little on the mat. 

“Got somewhere you need to be?” Auston kisses a light mark on the inside of Freddie’s thigh, just above his knee. 

Freddie shakes his head and smiles. “Nah.” Nowhere. Not now, and maybe not ever. 

“Nah,” Auston mutters under his breath. “Such a flatterer.”

Freddie laughs, blows a kiss in Auston’s direction.

Auston sighs and kisses higher on the inside of Freddie’s thigh, right over the muscle that’s sore. His lips are even more gentle there. Soft. 

It makes Freddie lean back, close his eyes and relax, trusting. “Love you too, Aus.” Because Auston’s declarations of love come in all forms, and Freddie is learning to translate them well. 

“So much,” Auston says softly before he gently spreads Freddie’s legs apart. 

Freddie moans with it. He feels the stretch of the muscle but it’s only satisfying. 

“Okay?” Auston asks, pausing. 

Freddie hums, comfortable. “Yeah,” he exhales as Auston ghosts a breath over the tip of his cock. His breath hitches as Auston flicks his tongue over him. 

It’s almost electric. Freddie feels it through his whole body immediately, at odds with the way Auston’s finger is gently, slowly padding against his hole.

Auston takes his cock into his mouth. It’s wet, really wet the way he likes. Just shy of sloppy. Then the sound of the lube being opened doubles every sensation. Triples, maybe, because of the anticipation it builds.

Freddie moans shamelessly. He’s not going to waste a moment feeling self-conscious about it. Auston knows what he does to him. Auston knows what Freddie likes. 

And Freddie likes when Auston starts with two fingers. 

He likes the stretch, the feeling of immediate fullness. The feeling of Auston’s massive hands working him open. 

Freddie groans, letting his head loll to the side. “Oh fuck, Auston.”

Auston lets Freddie’s cock go with a luscious pop. “I’m not doing a good enough job if you can still say my name,” he chuckles. Then he takes Freddie in deeper, using his hand to make up for what he can’t manage. 

Auston’s touch is gentle. Strokes slow and deliberate. Freddie feels himself edging precariously close to the finish line, but nowhere near hurtling himself over.

It’s absolute bliss, this slow build. Auston knows just how Freddie likes his prostate massaged, exactly how to curl his fingers. Just how much is too much. When to suck his cock down deeper. Or when not to, depending on the end game.

Freddie just lets himself feel, completely trusting his body to Auston.

But eventually, even a slow build implies that something gets built, and Freddie is almost at the point of no return. He starts slowing his breathing down, hoping to stave off the inevitable. But Auston is really good at what Auston wants to be good at. Like hockey, for example. Or baseball. Or basketball. Or blowjobs. 

Ultimately, Freddie’s hopeless.

He whimpers, since it’s physically paining him to say what he needs to say. “Wait. Wait, not yet.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just. I’m too close. I– Fuck, Auston. I want you.” 

“Right here, baby.” Auston says gently, carefully pulling out his fingers. “Okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Freddie hopes Auston means ever. Because he’s already fallen hard and deep. 

But that tone. Those words. Freddie is hopeless against them. He has to take more deep breaths just to feel like he’s got enough oxygen. Just to feel like he isn’t so close to being completely consumed by the feeling building inside him. 

He tries to focus on the sounds around him. Like the snap of Auston opening the lube. The quick inhale of breath Auston makes when the shock of cold touches his skin. The squelching sound the lube makes when Auston coats his cock. It’s all familiar. All pleasant. All Auston, about to fuck him. 

“Ready?” Auston says, pausing to check that Freddie still wants this. As if they haven’t done it before. As if Freddie wouldn’t beg him if he had to. 

“Yeah,” Freddie says softly, reaching so he can pull Auston down for an open-mouthed kiss. “Do it.”

Auston presses in, flicks his tongue against Freddie’s at the same time, and it’s perfect. It’s perfect having Auston everywhere, consuming, surrounding. 

Freddie whimpers softly and Auston stops. 

Waits. 

Freddie shakes his head and has to whisper, “feels good. Don’t stop,” before Auston moves again. 

By the time Auston is fully seated, Freddie is moaning softly. The muscles in his thighs are shaking, not because they still hurt (because he forgot about them, if he’s being honest), but because he feels overwhelmingly good. 

He’s just so fucking happy he could come. 

He actually might. 

Oh, fuck. 

“Aus, I'm really close,” he warns.

Auston pushes himself up onto his elbows. “You’re so worked up today, baby,” he says gently without a trace of judgement. “You wanna come yet?”

Freddie shakes his head, trying to control his breathing. 

Auston looks down and presses a kiss to the tip of Freddie’s nose. He takes a moment, brushing a thumb over Freddie’s eyebrow. “Did I ever tell you about the time I walked into your place instead of mine with a girl?”

“What?” Freddie smiles, adjusting his hips a little. “When? And how drunk were you?” He knows Auston is trying to distract him with words instead of actions. It’s working. It’s exactly what he needs. Auston always knows exactly what he needs.

Auston laughs and brushes his thumb along Freddie’s cheekbone. “Very. Last year, after we beat Detroit. You didn’t play that game and said you didn’t feel like going out. I don’t know how you didn’t wake up.”

Freddie thinks back and laughs. “You’re an idiot. After Detroit? The back-to-back?” He turns his head to press a kiss to the inside of Auston’s palm. “I wasn’t even home.”

Auston’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, really. Sneaking around, were we?” He thinks something over. “That’s hot.”

“You’re hot. If I’d been home maybe I could have been coerced into something sooner.”

Auston leans down to press their lips together. “Missed opportunity. I’d say it worked out okay.”

“Okay?” Freddie smiles. “Just okay?” He would do illegal things for this man. 

“Pretty okay,” Auston says with a smirk.

Freddie bites playfully at his shoulder. “I hate you so much,” he murmurs, managing to keep a straight face when he looks Auston in the eyes. 

“How many times have we established this?” Auston’s lips hover millimeters over him. “You really don’t.”

Freddie closes the distance and kisses him. “I really... really don’t,” he murmurs against Auston’s lips. 

The slight change in angle reminds them both of what they were doing. “Okay?” Auston whispers into a kiss.

“Yeah,” Freddie whispers back, moaning as Auston pulls his hips back slowly, slowly, almost teasing. It’s so slow that Freddie feels every millimeter, feels the drag against his prostate so completely that he’s gasping softly. “Fuck.”

Auston gets his hand in behind Freddie’s head, cupping it so he can bring their lips that much closer together. His movements stay slow, almost torturously now, but they’re building this up carefully. 

“You feel so good, Fred,” Auston murmurs, pushing back in. “Fuck, baby.”

Freddie moans softly, so quietly that he can barely hear it over the beating of his heart. The slow drag feels perfect, steady, and he knows Auston will get him where he needs to be, probably sooner than he’d like. 

Auston is holding himself up on his elbows but manages to shift his weight enough to let one hand roam over Freddie’s skin, touching whatever he can reach. 

It makes Freddie’s skin rise in goosebumps. Makes him shiver. Makes him hook his calves over Auston’s thighs so they can get closer. 

Freddie can only imagine what his face looks like to Auston right now. His eyes are closed, features slack. But everything feels good and he wonders if that shows. Every slow stroke of Auston’s cock, every trail of Auston’s fingertips. Every press of Auston’s lips. 

His heart is starting to hammer in his chest now, overwhelmed by every sensation, every emotion. 

They press their foreheads together, both getting close. They’re both moaning into each other’s mouths, and Freddie almost can’t handle it.

“Can you come from just this today?” Auston asks, gentle. This, meaning nothing but Auston’s cock.

Freddie gasps on the next slow drag in. “Maybe?” Probably, if he’s being honest. He feels like he’s got a bit of a hair trigger today, a side-effect of Auston. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Wanna try?”

He can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “Yeah.” It’s a win-win situation for him. If he needs something more, Auston will give it to him.

But right now the angle is perfect, just as it is. The stroke of Auston inside him is perfect, just as it is. The gentle kisses are perfect, just as they are. So Freddie spreads his legs, just a little more, and arches his hips, just a little bit. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, Aus.”

“What do you need, baby?” Auston whispers.

Freddie whines, high in his throat. “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Just this. Just keep going.”

So Auston does, patient, somehow not rushing through this, taking his time. 

Freddie feels himself getting closer, closer, millimeter by millimeter. But he’s savouring every second. So worth it.

He wants to come, knows it’s within reach now. He can almost taste it. He feels the trembling in his thighs, the heat low in his abdomen. His breaths are coming more quickly, more shallow. He’s done for.

Auston presses their foreheads together for a moment before pulling back just enough to look Freddie in the eyes. He leaves a quick kiss on Freddie’s lips like he can’t help himself, and pulls back to look again. To watch. To wait, still cradling the back of Freddie’s head.

And that’s it. It’s the look in Auston’s eyes that makes him feel like he’s the center of the universe. Like Auston can’t miss a moment of this. That’s what shoves Freddie over the edge, dropping him into a freefall.

He gasps, the surge of heat running through him as he comes is almost unbearable. Almost too much. But Auston watches, gently fucks him through it. Slowly, slowly. Completely at odds with how intense the orgasm is as it washes over Freddie.

Everything inside him is so bright that it’s blinding. He can barely register the stutter of Auston’s hips, the deep grunt, or the way Auston grips the back of his head. And then he feels the warmth flood inside him as Auston comes too.

Freddie can feel Auston’s heart hammering through his chest where they’re pressed together. Can feel the taught muscles as he works through his orgasm. The stunned huff of air, which only tells Freddie that Auston was probably caught off guard.

Auston groans then, sounding pretty satisfied. Freddie’s feeling pretty satisfied too, and lets out a deep breath. He hums softly. 

“How’re your legs?” Auston asks after a moment.

Freddie just makes a noise partway between a grunt and a moan. It’s not much of an answer, but he’s not sure he can manage more than that right now.

“M’asking because I’m about to fall on them.” It’s a fair warning.

“Do it,” Freddie murmurs. It might ruin him, but it’s worth it.

So Auston does. He drops his weight on Freddie, on his spread legs, and Freddie just moans. Because Auston.

Auston, who still hasn’t pulled out at all, just nuzzles his face into Freddie’s neck. “Good job, you.”

Freddie laughs. Or at least tries to with Auston’s weight on him. “Didn’t really do anything.” He kisses the side of Auston’s head. “You fishing?”

“Yeah, I’m fishing. But you still did good. Just. Being you.”

Freddie wraps his arms tight around Auston, trying not to let his legs slip from where they’re still hooked around his. “That was amazing, Auston. You’re magical.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Auston laughs. “You suck at compliments.”

“Only when you fish for them. Besides, I came without you touching my dick. That’s compliment enough,” Freddie points out. “Don’t be greedy.”

Auston hums and presses his lips to the shell of Freddie’s ear. “Always greedy for you.”

The feeling is completely mutual, so Freddie kisses his shoulder. “How are your knees?” The mat they’re on is only so thick. 

Auston exhales deeply. “Don’t ask. Just be glad I’m so much younger than you.”

Freddie digs his finger into the meaty part of Auston’s hip. “Watch it,” he warns. He can’t hide the smile from his voice, though.

After a few moments Auston carefully eases out of Freddie and sits up, admiring the mess between them. “Come on. Before you fall asleep here, old man.” He holds his hand out for Freddie to take, helping him up. “I’ll even let you pick what we’re watching tonight.”

Freddie takes Auston’s outstretched hand and stands up. He picks up their clothes, then absently runs a finger through the come spread over his skin as he follows Auston upstairs. “I’m just going to wind up watching the inside of my eyelids,” Freddie admits. “Pick whatever you want.” 

He ignores the way Auston snickers. 

They clean up, get changed, and curl up together on the couch. 

Auston offers the remote to Freddie, who just shakes his head. 

“You pick,” Auston says, insistent. “I’ll change it when you start snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

Auston looks at him sideways. “Sure you don’t.”

Freddie laughs, almost a snort, and takes the remote. He curls deeper into Auston’s side and gets comfortable, settling on The Office because he doesn’t care if he misses an episode or ten.

Before he falls asleep tucked under Auston’s arm, he sets an alarm that’ll remind him to actually go to bed. Make an effort to get a proper night’s sleep.

After all, they’ve got ice time tomorrow.


	4. Epilogue: The One in Toronto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two idiots in love and back in Toronto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even pretend to know what these dudes get up to in real life. Probably not this. This story is just for fun and I'm really not making any actual assumptions about anyone's sexuality or preferences.
> 
> Typos are my own.
> 
> Circumstances are due to quarantine, but quarantine is not central to the story if that's not your cup of tea. 
> 
> Also, there’s no mention of Auston having COVID in this.

Even on the cusp of waking up, Freddie knows that Auston isn’t in bed anymore. His warmth is gone. The balance feels off. 

Auston isn’t where he should be, and Freddie hates when Auston is misplaced. 

He begins to stir, accounting for his own limbs under the duvet. One foot is, unsurprisingly, peeking out from under the covers; a habit from when he grew too tall for regular beds. An ex once called his foot a temperature regulator, and that much is true too. 

He suspects that he knows where Auston is, though, so he tests his theory and wiggles his temperature-regulating toes, waving them towards the doorway. 

“Turkey,” Auston says softly with a laugh. It sounds like he’s leaving his perch in the doorframe to come closer.

They’ve been back in Toronto for a couple of weeks, and Freddie’s condo has become their default hidey-hole. They're unwilling, after months living together, to exist in separate places right now. They haven’t really talked much about it beyond agreeing that they’d stay at Freddie’s for a while, a compromise of sorts after being in Auston’s space for so long. 

It feels perfect. They spent a lot of time in each other’s condos before Scottsdale anyway, but it’s nice to reach out and know Auston is in  _ his _ home. Look over and see him smile. Wake up and feel his warmth. 

Freddie misses Scottsdale, but he missed hockey and he missed some of his creature comforts in Toronto too. The coffee never tasted exactly the same in Arizona despite his best efforts. He missed having a kitchen arranged the way he’s accustomed to. And really, he missed his bed. Especially now that he shares it with Auston. 

And with Auston now located, Freddie feels significantly better. He sighs happily into the pillow when he feels Auston’s fingers wrap gently around his exposed ankle. “What time is it?” Freddie asks, shivering at the touch.

“Almost 9,” Auston says quietly. 

Almost nine means it’s late enough that he really should get up. He  _ would _ have been up already if Auston didn’t fuck him into oblivion last night. 

He shifts, which causes his muscles to protest and for him to grunt. He thinks he can feel where bruises are starting to blossom under the skin of his hips and thighs. It makes his breath hitch at the memory. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t wake me up earlier by jumping on me,” he mumbles into his pillow, actually accepting that sleep is no longer something he’ll be able to indulge in anymore this morning. 

Auston laughs and sets down a mug on the nightstand on Freddie’s side. “Who said I wasn’t tempted?” He climbs onto the bed and over Freddie laying down beside him before slowly peeling away the duvet. “Besides, I know better ways to wake you up.” The ‘without getting injured’ goes unsaid. “Brought you coffee.”

Freddie sighs. “I love you so much,” he says, soft into the pillow. Auston starts dragging his fingertips lazily across his back and it feels wonderful. He stretches a bit, turning most of the way over. Auston’s fingertips continue their drag over his chest. Across his nipples. Along his collarbone. 

“Were you saying that to me or the coffee?” Auston asks, leaning over to start placing small kisses along Freddie’s chest.

Freddie hesitates for just long enough that he earns a gentle nip against his skin. “You,” he says, threading his fingers into Auston’s curls. “Always you.”

It just makes Auston smile, huff out a soft breath against Freddie’s skin. “Love you too. Oh, forgot to mention, you’re making breakfast.”

Freddie grunts, closing his eyes. He takes a deep breath and sighs dramatically, but it’s all for show. He loves cooking for Auston. Loves doing small things for him too. Or big things like buying expensive coffee makers. He just wishes he could cook dinner instead of breakfast because he’s still half-asleep and there’s lots of time before dinner has to happen. 

“What exactly am I making?” Freddie asks, mentally preparing himself while stretching. He runs his fingers through his own hair. It’s remarkably fluffy considering he passed out in Auston’s arms last night. He ruffles it a bit and notices a fond look in Auston’s eyes that makes his heart skip a beat.

Auston blinks a couple of times, seeming to remember that Freddie asked him a question. “Pancakes.” He’s clearly given this some thought. “And I don’t mean the boxed shit.”

Freddie sighs. “I’ve spoiled you.”

“You’ve spoiled me,” Auston confirms, solemn until a telltale smirk forms on his face, giving him away.

Freddie reaches out so he can brush his thumb over Auston’s cheekbone. “You’re worth spoiling.”

“I’m worth pancakes from scratch. At least.” Auston presses a kiss to Freddie’s ribs. It tickles a bit, but Freddie manages not to squirm too much.

“At least.” Freddie sighs, content. “I like when you wake me up.”

“Are you even awake yet?” Auston sounds doubtful, but his fingertips start roaming again, slipping below where the duvet has been pushed down. “You haven’t exactly moved. You’re still horizontal.”

“You told me you prefer me this way,” Freddie says, watching Auston’s fingers. “Something about liking how I sound.”

“No, I said I like you more when you’re full of my dick because you talk back less.”

Freddie contemplates this. “Probably true.” Fuck. He’s so fucking smitten. 

Auston smirks at him. “Your coffee is getting cold.” He sounds pretty smitten too. 

Freddie smiles, stretching once more before making an effort to sit up and take the coffee mug in his hands. 

He inhales deeply, feeling his brain come back online, and takes a sip. It’s perfect. Fuck. He moans indulgently. 

Auston chuckles, curling up against him so his head rests against Freddie’s still partially reclined stomach. 

Freddie automatically threads his fingers back into Auston’s hair. 

“How’re you feeling?” Auston asks him, sounding a bit less sure than Freddie is used to hearing.

Freddie takes another sip and swallows. “Mmm. Good. Really good, actually.” A bit more sore than usual, but nothing crazy. Nothing he’d considered substantial. “You?”

“Glutes hate me today,” Auston says, smirking. 

“ _ Your _ glutes hate you today?” Freddie laughs because his ass took the pounding last night. 

“Shut up. Might have gotten a bit carried away. My boyfriend is really hot.” Auston emphatically presses his head back against Freddie’s stomach. However, he presses in a way that only reminds Freddie that his bladder is full. 

Freddie grunts, mouth full of coffee. Then he’s nudging Auston aside. “Well, now it’s your fault your hot boyfriend has to piss.”

Auston rolls away, giving Freddie space to get up. Freddie makes his way to the bathroom, does what he needs to, and washes his hands. 

The dildo they used last night is drying on a clean towel on the counter. Freddie didn’t put it there, which means Auston did it. That means that Auston knew where to find the clean hand towels, which Freddie doesn’t remember showing him. It makes something warm curl through Freddie. Something about the way Auston is so comfortable in his space. Something about the way it’s becoming their space, much in the same way Scottsdale became their space.

He gives his head a quick shake and reaches for his toothbrush to clean his teeth, since he’s standing there. He knows it means sacrificing the taste of his coffee, but it means he can kiss Auston. And given a choice between Auston and any of his other favourite comforts, he’ll always choose Auston. 

When he gets back into his bedroom, Auston is scrolling mindlessly through his phone, lying prone on the bed with his feet hanging over the side.

Freddie doesn’t waste time crawling up the bed, caging Auston in. A wave of possessiveness flows over him.

Auston tosses his phone aside, and flips himself over. 

“Oh good morning,” Auston laughs just before Freddie leans down for a kiss. Auston makes a delighted sound when he realizes Freddie is minty fresh. 

“Better morning now,” Freddie murmurs against Auston’s lips. 

Freddie is still naked from last night, but Auston is wearing clothes. Layers of them. Far too much fabric, in Freddie’s opinion. So he reaches down to tug at the hem of Auston’s t-shirt. 

Auston makes a sound in the back of his throat that sounds too much like disapproval. 

Freddie stops and sits up. “No?”

“Not  _ no _ ,” Auston starts, a nervous smile playing across his lips. “Just not sure  _ you _ want to.”

“Why would I be here,” he whispers, “doing this,” dragging his fingertips along Auston’s arm, “if I didn’t want to?”

Auston shivers under him. He’s beautiful, sprawled across his bed like he belongs. He  _ does _ belong, actually. 

“Was it too much? Last night?” Auston seems uncharacteristically quiet, his usual confidence and bravado gone like a fog that’s burned away by the sun. 

Freddie can’t help a fond smile. “That’s what you’re worried about?” He leans back down and presses soft, gentle kisses starting over the furrow in Auston’s brow. 

“A bit,” Auston whispers, eyelids fluttering closed. 

Freddie kisses over the tip of his nose, over his cheeks, along his chin. “It was really intense, Aus,” he whispers into the hinge of Auston’s jaw. “But I really, really needed it.” He punctuates his point with a kiss to Auston’s lips. 

Some of the tension seems to ease out of Auston. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Freddie whispers. And intense is a Fred-sized understatement. Auston had never pounded into him from behind that hard, that deep, and it left Freddie feeling almost frantic. 

It was unreal. Auston came first, turned Freddie onto his back and finished him off with a dildo, sucking him hard and deep until Freddie came. 

Freddie was a total wreck. Completely shattered, shaking, heels of his hands pressed into his eyes, tears streaking his face. 

Auston held him tightly after, until their hearts stopped hammering in their chests, and only left him long enough to grab a damp washcloth. It was the first time Auston cleaned him up, rather than just tossing him a towel. Instead, Auston took his time, slowly, gently working the washcloth over him. It was so intimate that Freddie could barely breathe from the intensity of it. 

They fell asleep curled around each other, clinging more than usual. 

And now Freddie feels amazing. Loose, relaxed in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. Like the weight of everything he’s been carrying has vanished. But he can see why Auston might think otherwise. 

A thought crosses his mind. “That’s guilt coffee, isn’t it?”

“No–” Auston says, too quickly. Then, “maybe.”

Freddie huffs out a laugh. “Last night was amazing, Aus. Stop feeling guilty.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He leans in close again nipping gently at Auston’s ear. “I’m still full of your come,” he whispers like it’s a secret. It makes Auston gasp, and Freddie can feel the twitch of Auston’s cock in response. So he grinds slowly against Auston, testing. “This okay?” He asks, checking.

Auston nods, tipping his head back to expose his neck to Freddie’s lips. “Yeah,” he whispers, moaning softly when Freddie glides the tip of his tongue along the skin there. 

Freddie decides he’d like to take his time, savoring the sounds Auston makes when Freddie’s lips press against him. So when he grinds their hips together again, it’s a slow, fluid motion. A careful drag against Auston’s shorts. 

It feels wonderful until he can feel how hard Auston is beneath the fabric, so he lets his fingertips trace along the waistband. “Can we take these off?”

Auston moans, more reserved than normal. But he’s shimmying out of his shorts and underwear. Tugging off his shirt. 

He’s gorgeous. He’s gorgeous and tanned and perfect. He’s the size of a mountain right now, not having enough ice time to have burned it off, but that just means there’s more surface for Freddie to map. More skin to kiss. More muscle to use, which is what he suspects resulted in the sheer intensity of last night. 

Freddie sucks a nipple into his mouth, watching the way Auston’s eyelids slip shut at the sensation. He can feel Auston growing harder against his hip, so he grinds down again, just a little, just enough to reassure Auston that they’ll get back to it in a moment. 

But first, the other nipple. 

Auston moans out softly, legs splaying. He’s the picture of someone who loves to receive. Someone who loves to give, too, but he just  _ takes _ so well. 

Freddie doesn’t mind. 

He swirls his tongue around the hardened bud of Auston’s nipple once more before easing off.

Auston looks more fargone than Freddie would have expected. Perfect. 

He traces his finger along the seam of Auston’s lips until Auston takes it into his mouth, sucking gently, licking at it, getting it good and wet. 

Freddie can’t stop an appreciative hum. 

He withdraws after a moment, watching a trail of spit connect it to Auston. He knows what Auston expects. He knows what Auston wants. And he wants that too. But right now, he wants to play. And playing means that instead of sliding his finger into Auston, he reaches between his own legs and slides it into himself. 

His eyelids flicker closed, but he hears the gasp, the rustle of the sheets as Auston sits up to watch. “Tease,” Auston whispers, reaching down to stroke Freddie’s cock. 

Freddie opens his eyes at that, a smirk playing on his lips as he pulls his finger out. He watches Auston’s face as he brings his finger back to Auston’s lips, watches as Auston takes it back into his mouth, and watches as Auston realizes that he’s tasting his own come. 

The broken moan Auston makes is almost as gorgeous as he is. 

Freddie leans in close enough to whisper into Auston’s ear, Auston’s tongue still circling his finger. “I fucking love when you fill me up. Love having you inside me. Love feeling it in my bones the next day.” 

He reaches for a bottle of lube with his free hand and slowly, teasingly withdraws his finger from Auston’s mouth. Auston’s plush lips are shiny with spit and Freddie has to kiss them. 

He coats his finger and reaches down between Auston’s legs, finally circling over his hole. There’s a soft gasp that Freddie feels deep in his heart. 

“I love being inside you. Love taking you apart.” He hears the hitch in Auston’s breath as he pushes the finger inside. “Love what you do to me. Love waking up beside you. Love when you bring me coffee.”

He curls his finger inside Auston and watches the way he rolls his hips into the sensation. 

“Love when you hold me after. Love how you make me feel safe.” He slides a second finger alongside the first. “Love being with you,” he whispers, kissing down Auston’s chest. “Love you so much.”

He takes Auston’s cock in his mouth, hard, leaking, almost painful looking. Auston cries out at the sensation, hands moving to hold Freddie’s head in place. To keep him there. 

Freddie moans at the feeling, moans at the way Auston rolls his hips again, pushing back on his fingers, then up into his mouth. 

“Oh god, Fred,” Auston whimpers above him. “Oh fuck.”

Freddie takes him as deep as he can, head nudging towards the back of his throat. It has Auston moaning out, words unintelligible. Complete nonsense. Sounds that mean he feels good. That Freddie is making him feel good. 

Auston’s fingers tighten in Freddie’s hair, then, and Freddie knows he’s close, knows it won’t take much more to get Auston there. He knows where to drag the flat of his tongue. He knows how to curl his fingertips. He pulls back just a bit, just so he can taste, and within moments Auston is crying out. Freddie does his best to swallow around him. 

He pulls off when Auston’s grip loosens in his hair, knowing that indulging any longer won’t be comfortable for Auston. He crawls his way up Auston’s body, kissing as he maps his way back. 

He’s not surprised when Auston brackets his face with his hands and pulls him into a filthy kiss. Freddie’s tongue still has remnants of Auston’s come on it, and Auston moans at the taste. 

“Your turn,” Auston whispers, trying, but not getting enough leverage to flip them over. 

Freddie shakes his head. “That was just for you,” he says, soft. “I want to make breakfast.”

There’s a look Freddie can’t quite read on Auston’s face, so he kisses him, firm, once more before going to his dresser to grab a pair of clean underwear and a t-shirt. They have the day off. Shorts are too much effort. 

Auston’s right behind him, putting his clothes back on and following him out of the room. He notices that Auston opts out of wearing shorts as well. 

Freddie pulls out a crepe pan, a mixing bowl, and starts collecting ingredients for pancakes. But when he turns around, he sees Auston open the warming drawer of the oven and pull out a plate with a suspiciously ready-looking stack of pancakes. 

Freddie stops dead in his tracks. Wait. “Are those–”

“Guilt pancakes?” Auston offers with a smirk. “Maybe.”

Freddie drops the whisk he was holding on the countertop. “You made these?”

“Mhmm,” Auston says, proud, but uncharacteristically shy about it. “Had to call for support, though.”

“Who’d–” Freddie starts. Stops. His heart swells. “Did you call my mom?”

Auston looks down, away, anywhere but Freddie and nods. “She says call her, by the way.”

“Oh my god,” Freddie exhales, stunned. He steps forward, pressing himself against Auston, burying his face into Auston’s neck. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” Auston says, wrapping his arms tight around Freddie’s waist. “More than you know.”

Somehow Freddie doubts that, but he’ll let Auston win this round. Again.


	5. The Night Before The One in Toronto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's 4274 words of gratuitous porn written as part of the Epilogue. So really, here's a... pre-Epilogue? idk
> 
> I'll reorder these later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even pretend to know what these dudes get up to in real life. Probably not this. This story is just for fun and I'm really not making any actual assumptions about anyone's sexuality or preferences.
> 
> Typos are my own.
> 
> Circumstances are due to quarantine, but quarantine is not central to the story if that's not your cup of tea. Also, there’s no mention of Auston having COVID in this.

They’re wrestling. 

There’s no reason for it, other than Freddie has the remote and Auston wants it, but Freddie doesn’t feel like relenting. Auston had his share of TV time in Scottsdale and Freddie just really feels like watching this particular Norwegian murder mystery on Gem. 

Well, maybe that’s a pretty good reason to wrestle, actually. Freddie feels like the moody grey scenes on TV are getting him through the humid wall of air they came back to in Toronto. Arizona was hot, but it was also dry. Comparatively, this is gross. So he just wants to watch this brooding Nordic winterscape that reminds him just enough of home, okay?

Their wrestling match starts on the couch, moves to the living room floor, and somehow, when Auston actually starts chasing Freddie, winds up in the bedroom. 

Frankly, Freddie is impressed nothing broke, including any of their bones. Especially the way he almost nailed his ankle on the side table.

And now, finally, Freddie has Auston pinned on the bed. “Give up yet?” he asks, smirking. This wrestling match started at a critical scene in the show and now he’ll have to go back to find where he left off without spoiling what happens. So he’d really like Auston to give up now.

But he knows Auston is too competitive for that. He knows Auston won’t give up so easily since he hasn’t yet. He knows, half a second before Auston is going to do it, that Auston is about to grind up against him. 

Freddie pulls his hips back. 

The problem is that he miscalculates how much weight Auston needs in order to be sufficiently pinned. So when Freddie moves back, it gives Auston enough leverage to flip over, pushing Freddie off at the same time. 

Damn it. Within a matter of moments, Freddie is on his back under Auston’s weight, wrists pinned above his head.

“Nice try,” Auston growls at him. It’s so raw. So feral. 

Freddie’s cock hardens immediately at the sound. He was pretty worked up to start, so he’s not exactly surprised. But still. That’s not the point he was trying to make.

Auston must feel it, too, because he looks down between them and huffs out a laugh. “So fucking easy for me,” he says, growling again, and Freddie actually fucking whimpers at the sound. 

He tries to get enough leverage to grind up against Auston, use the same trick, but with a completely different game in mind. 

He doesn’t want to wrestle anymore. He’s finished with that. No. Now he wants to fuck. 

Granted, he wants to fuck a lot. More than he ever has. But hearing the rich timbre of Auston’s growl, tougher than Freddie’s ever heard, is doing things for him. Things he wants to take care of. 

He tries to wrench his head a little, just enough to nip at Auston’s jaw. But Auston pulls away in time. Freddie tries again. And again. But there’s no use. 

He lets out a frustrated growl of his own. 

“What’s the matter?” Auston asks, teasing. “Want something?”

“You.” Since he can’t have his TV show right now. Freddie sounds so much more breathless than he expected. 

Auston pulls his face back just enough to look at Freddie. “You can have me when I say you can have me,” he says, challenging. 

Oh. Oh god. 

Oh fuck. 

Freddie swallows hard. More of a gulp, really. This is working for him more than he expected. 

It looks like Auston knows it, too. “I’m going to let go,” he says, “and you’re going to stay.” It sounds like a warning.

Freddie nods, lips parted, breath shallow and quick with want. 

True to his word, Auston sits up, letting go of Freddie’s wrists. 

Freddie doesn’t budge. 

Barely even breathes. 

He watches, mouth going dry, as Auston slowly lifts the bottom of his t-shirt. Then he drops the hem, teasing. “We’re off tomorrow,” Auston says, voice deep. “Nowhere to be. Nothing to do.”

Freddie closes his eyes, heart starting to beat faster in his chest. When he opens them, Auston’s hand is hovering over Freddie’s chest. Waiting. Not touching. Freddie whimpers softly and arches. Just a hair. Almost nothing. 

But it’s enough to make Auston snatch his hand away. “_ When _ I say…” Auston growls. “Not sooner.”

Freddie gasps. His skin breaks out in goosebumps. Despite his clothes. Despite the thin sheen of sweat from wrestling. Maybe because of it. “Aus…” he starts, trailing off. 

Auston just watches him with his dark eyes, darker than usual, like he’s planning his next move. He waits. Waits. And before Freddie can react, Auston reaches down and cups him roughly through his shorts. 

Oh god. It’s like a jolt of electricity goes through Freddie. He moans out, a hint of a whimper on the end when Auston presses the heel of his hand harder against Freddie’s length. 

It feels so good. But it’s not nearly enough. His hands twitch above his head, moving without Freddie realizing, but Auston sees. He must, because suddenly he’s pulling his hand away and Freddie can’t stop his hips from trying to chase after the touch. No more than an inch, but enough for Auston to back off completely. 

“I thought I told you to stay,” Auston says, voice so rough it sounds like he just deepthroated Freddie. “Is this going to be a problem?”

And Freddie doesn’t know how to answer him. It’s going to be a problem if he doesn’t get off soon. But if listening to Auston gets him where he wants, he’ll do that. No problem. So he shakes his head. It’ll get him where he wants to be — needs to be — sooner. 

He hopes. 

Auston watches him for a moment longer, eyes roaming over Freddie’s body. Freddie isn’t normally one to preen, but it feels good being looked at like this. It feels good because it’s Auston. And he knows Auston is probably planning his next move, which means being one step closer to getting off.

Freddie knows Auston is ready the second his eyes turn darker. He swallows, hard.

Auston reaches down and slowly, methodically slides his hands under Freddie’s t-shirt, splaying along Freddie’s stomach. He waits there a moment, watching as Freddie holds his breath in anticipation. 

Freddie loves being touched like this, under his clothes like it’s a secret. Like it’s not allowed. He desperately wants to arch into the touch, but he’s learned his lesson and he’d rather have the certainty of Auston’s skin against his than run the risk of pushing into the feeling, only to have Auston back away. 

It’s taking everything in him not to move. 

The self-restraint must be obvious because Auston hums appreciatively. “Good boy,” he whispers. 

Freddie’s breath hitches as Auston’s hands continue to roam up, up, pushing the fabric with them. Up, until his fingertips reach Freddie’s nipples. Until Auston’s thumbs pause there to play. 

It’s almost impossible for Freddie not to move, to let Auston know how much he wants this. But Auston knows. He must. He always does. Because he tweaks Freddie’s nipples gently between his thumbs and index fingers. Gently at first, but when Freddie behaves, with a bit more pressure. A bit more, more, until Freddie gasps.

Auston stops. 

Freddie expects Auston to back away, but he doesn’t. Instead, Auston leans down and captures one nipple between his lips and starts sucking. Biting. Tugging with his teeth. He pauses to look up at Freddie’s face, which Freddie knows is flushed red. “Take this off,” Auston says, rucking the t-shirt higher up Freddie’s chest. 

Freddie sits up just enough to pull the shirt over his head, surprised when Auston’s hand presses against where his abs are flexed because of it. Freddie lays back down on the bed, watching. Waiting. 

It’s a few moments before Auston slips his fingers just under the waistband of Freddie’s shorts, the backs of his knuckles skimming shallowly along the skin under the elastic. 

It’s a tease, slow and light. Freddie can’t stop the shiver under his skin, or the goosebumps that form. 

“These too,” Auston says, low. 

Freddie does as he’s told, stripping off his shorts and underwear. He drops them onto the floor and lets his legs fall open, puts his arms above his head again, and waits. 

Auston raises his eyebrows, impressed, and just seems to watch. He’s still fully clothed, clearly not in any rush. 

Freddie doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind the lingering looks. The darkened gaze. The hunger in Auston’s eyes. It’s the same hunger he feels whenever he looks at Auston, too. The same feeling he gets knowing that Auston is his. 

So he waits. Waits for Auston to get his fill of looks. Waits for Auston to reach for the hem of his shirt again. For him to drag it slowly, teasingly up his torso. Like he’s teasing himself as much as Freddie. Like he’s enjoying the drag of his own fingertips over his skin. 

Freddie immediately wants to reach out and touch. Being irrationally jealous of your partner pleasuring themselves, however minutely, is apparently something Freddie experiences now. 

But he licks his lips and watches, biting his bottom lip to keep from rushing Auston when Auston clearly doesn’t want to be rushed.

That doesn’t stop the drop of precome forming at the tip of Freddie’s cock from dripping onto his stomach, though. He’s only human after all, despite what Auston yells out when they’re fucking.

“You’re being so good, baby,” Auston says, pinching his own nipple under his shirt. 

Freddie feels pride swell up in him at the praise. He’s as focused as he is when he’s at his best on the ice, so his patience shouldn’t be a surprise. But being this still is new in bed. He likes to feel. To taste. To smell. To hear Auston’s voice. He relies on so much more than just his eyes, which is what makes this so different from being in net. All of his senses are bombarded by Auson, Auston, Auston. He lives for this.

But now he wants his reward. He wants Auston to stop teasing. He’s being good, but it’s not getting him very far. “Please, Aus,” he tries, voice breathless.

“Please, what? What do you need?” Auston finally, albeit still slowly, tugs his t-shirt over his head. 

Freddie looks at him through his lashes. “Fuck me,” he whispers, soft, like it’s not killing him to be this still, this patient, with nothing but his own cock leaking over himself. “Please,” he adds belatedly.

Auston looks like he considers it, like he could play this game for hours, stretching minutes for no reason other than he can. But Freddie knows it’s a fool’s errand. They both like to tease and take their time, but they’re both also too horny for each other. Freddie laughed at people like them before he became part of them. Now he can’t get enough of them together.

“Are you going to keep behaving?” Auston asks, cupping himself through his shorts. Freddie notices the way his breathing is becoming shallower. 

“Promise,” Freddie whimpers, voice betraying him. He has to close his hands into fists, dig his fingernails into his palms, to keep from reaching out. 

Auston keeps watching him, his own hand sliding into his shorts as he starts stroking himself. “Maybe I’ll just get myself off and go watch TV,” Auston says, smirking. “Leave you here like this for later. For when I’m ready.”

“Oh god,” Freddie whispers, closing his eyes. He’s not sure he could handle that. Not sure it wouldn’t absolutely crush him. His absolute traitor of a dick dribbles more precome onto his stomach, clearly missing the threat looming over it.

When he opens his eyes, Auston has already stripped out of his shorts and underwear. The relief washes over Freddie like a cool shower in desert heat. Or the air conditioning of his condo in Toronto’s humidity. “Please, Aus.” 

Auston growls at him, crawling over him on the bed. He leans down to press their lips together while his hand palms at Freddie’s balls. 

Freddie moans, needy. He doesn’t even realize he’s reaching for Auston, desperate to touch him, kiss him, keep him there. But the second his hands touch Auston, Auston is gone. Pulled away like he was never there. 

“Oh god, Aus, please,” Freddie whimpers, putting his hands back where they’re supposed to be above his head. “I’m sorry. Fuck, please don’t stop.”

Auston just smirks down at him, back to watching, back to letting Freddie cool off for a minute.

“Turn over,” he finally says. “Hands and knees.”

Freddie does as he’s told, grateful, shifting, rearranging. Shaking. He’s left on all fours, exposed and waiting. He isn’t sure what Auston’s plan is, but he’s eager. 

There’s a feral sound from Auston that would probably scare Freddie if he didn’t trust him so much. No. Instead, it makes his cock twitch where it hangs heavy between his legs. 

Freddie lets his head fall forward to watch another drop of precome bead at the tip. Slowly. Slowly. It drips onto the sheets. 

Fuck, he’s so hard. 

The snap of the cap on the bottle of lube gives something for Freddie to anchor to. He waits, taking deep breaths to slow his heart rate, and gasps softly when Auston pushes two fingers into him. 

It’s a lot. It’s a lot without warning. Without prep. Without Auston’s tongue working him open first. Without going slow. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a shock, making Freddie move away on instinct, clenching more than he’d like. That doesn’t help. 

But then there’s a hand on his lower back. An apology. Auston is silent, but he’s clearly waiting for Freddie to adjust. 

It takes a few moments, but Freddie manages to relax. He gives himself a few extra seconds, just until the shock subsides and turns into a stretch. Then he relishes the feeling just a little while longer.

When he’s ready, he pushes his hips back a fraction of an inch. 

He’s rewarded immediately with Auston seeking out his prostate. There’s a curl of his fingertips, a steady stroking over and over, and an intensity builds deep inside Freddie. 

He exhales slowly, breath hitching at the end. 

Freddie knows to keep his hips still, that Auston knows how to take care of him. He takes it as Auston scissors his fingers inside, stretching, playing. 

Freddie likes it when Auston plays, because sometimes Auston will teach Freddie something new about himself. Find fragments of kinks that build into a larger picture Freddie just couldn’t see without Auston. Like Auston has brought everything into focus for him. Made everything clear where it wasn’t before. 

And he realizes again that life before Auston wasn’t as bright. Wasn’t full of blinding, white-hot pleasure like this. Auston learns what feels perfect and doesn’t settle for anything less. Like he’s competing against himself to make it better for Freddie each time. 

Freddie doesn’t realize he’s moaning steadily now, so caught up in how good Auston is making him feel. So caught up that he doesn’t realize when Auston slides his fingers out and replaces them with the blunt tip of his cock.

There’s a pause, a quick series of heartbeats before Auston pushes into him, quick and steady, unrelenting. Freddie can only do his best to relax around him, moaning.

The speed of it makes Freddie’s toes curl, his back arch slightly. Auston gives him a few seconds to adjust, barely any time at all, before pulling nearly all the way out and pushing in again. Faster this time. Harder.

Freddie almost expects it to be too much, on the wrong side of painful. But Auston seems to know his limits better than he does. There’s a razor-edge line that doesn’t get crossed, somehow, skirting along it instead, leaving Freddie with nothing but pleasure. Fullness. Auston.

Freddie pushes his hips back, just a little, enough to confirm, whether Auston needed confirmation or not, that he’s ready, he’s okay. That Auston should keep going.

Auston makes a noise in his throat, deep and raw like a growl and pounds into Freddie harder than before. Deeper. So much deeper.

It feels like fireworks. Bright and sharp and loud with the slap of skin, but beautiful all the same. Illuminating. Overwhelming. Gorgeous. 

Freddie draws in as much air as he can into his lungs before moaning, whimpering, making more sound than he’s used to.

His cock hangs heavy between his legs, and Freddie is very aware of it. Aware of how it’s being ignored by Auston. Aware that he might face repercussions if he stops ignoring it himself. Aware that he’s inching closer and closer to completion with minimal effort, which is only a testament to how Auston can affect him so much.

He just wants to touch himself. Just for a second. Even if it’s just to press his hand against himself to relieve some pressure. Something. 

But the moment he moves his hand, Auston stops.

Waits.

Freddie whimpers, but part of him doesn’t mind waiting. Doesn’t mind the pause. It lets him catch his breath, pull away from the edge. 

It’s okay. He’s fine.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, and exhales slowly.

Auston still doesn’t move.

Freddie keeps breathing, slow, steady, and his heart rate almost returns to a more normal pace.

Almost.

And then Auston fucks back into him so hard that Freddie almost falls forward, catching himself on the headboard at the last second. 

Oh, fuck it feels good.

Auston’s fingers curl around Freddie’s hips, hard enough that Freddie wonders how dark the marks will be. He’s never had someone grip this tightly. Never had someone fuck him so hard. Never had someone hold him so firmly, so steadily that he could completely let go. 

He loves slow and gentle. He loves quick and dirty too. But this. This depth. This roughness and strength is something completely foreign to him. 

And he likes it. 

Fuck. 

He loves it. 

Freddie had never felt it so deep before. Never felt so full. He’s never been pounded into this hard. It’s like Auston is pushing every thought, every worry, everything he didn’t realize was in his head, straight out. There’s no more room left for him to think about anything.

It’s too much. It’s perfect.

Freddie feels Auston reach around, down, pressing his hand low against Freddie’s belly. Freddie waits for him to slide his hand lower still, to grab his cock, stroke him, anything, but Auston’s hand doesn’t move. Like it’s staying there intentionally. Like he’s trying to feel himself fuck into Freddie. 

Freddie’s moans at that, arms giving out. He’s so impossibly hard at the thought that he has to push his face into the pillow as a distraction. 

The skin on the back of his thighs, on his ass, burns with every slap of Auston fucking impossibly deeper into him. And this new angle, with his head now on the pillow, makes it more intense still. 

He’s so full. It’s so much.

Auston grunts above him, almost out of breath but fucking steadily harder. 

He doesn’t say anything before his hips stutter. There’s no warning before he drives hard into Freddie. Until Auston’s hips are flush against Freddie. Until Auston growls, low and feral. Until Freddie can feel the flood of warmth inside. 

It has him keening into the pillow as Auston fills him, knowing Auston is finished. Knowing he did that to him.

He also knows that he’s nowhere near finished, himself.

Auston pulls out of him, manoeuvring him until he’s on his back. But Auston isn’t settling between Freddie’s legs. He’s shifting away instead, and Freddie briefly wonders, almost panicked, whether Auston will just leave him there like that, hard and waiting, throbbing with it. Waiting until Auston wants him to come.

But he’s so desperate. So far gone that he can’t wait for Auston. Can’t wait any longer to find out. Can’t care about what, if any, the repercussions might be. 

So he pushes three of his own fingers into himself, fucking himself on his hand. 

He’s still slick with lube and full of Auston’s come.

He moans out, arching his back. It’s something, but the feeling of being filled isn’t the same. It’s not enough. Nothing is enough. 

He wants Auston.

“Oh, fuck. Oh my god, baby,” Auston gasps when he sees. He’s reaching for something in the nightstand. “Hang on, Fred, I’m here.”

But Freddie can’t hang on. He’s so desperate. So empty without Auston inside him that he’s almost sobbing with frustration. He whimpers, loud. “Make me come, Aus.” He draws in a shallow breath. “Please,” he whimpers again. “Please make me come.”

“Fuck! Shit,” Auston gasps, holding onto something in unsteady hands. “I’m right here, okay?” 

And it’s anything but okay until Auston is back between Freddie’s legs, carefully pulling Freddie’s hand away, pulling his fingers out. The emptiness is back, too much, and Freddie wonders if that’s it. If that’s how Auston will leave him.

But then Auston is pushing a dildo into him. Filling him up. “I’m right here, Fred. I’ve got you, baby.”

Freddie sobs with relief, moaning it out. He spreads his legs wide, wanting it deep. Wanting it hard. 

“Shhh,” Auston soothes, filling him up, deep as he can. “You’re okay. I’m right here.” Then he takes Freddie’s cock into his mouth. Deep. Deeper. Into his throat. 

The feeling is overwhelming. Auston is everywhere, and Freddie doesn’t know which sensation to focus on. He can’t handle this much information and make any sense of it. 

So he doesn’t try. He stops thinking about anything at all, letting himself just feel instead.

He’s not sure how long it goes on for. He’s babbling, both in English and Danish, not that it matters. They’re just bits of sentences, desperate phrases. 

He’s on edge for so long that he doesn’t expect he’ll ever tip over. But this limbo his body is in feels so good that he almost doesn’t care. Until he does. 

His orgasm hits him with absolutely no warning, and it hits him with such force that he cries out, muscles burning with the intensity. 

Auston gets him through it, takes the brunt of it, and lets Freddie come down his throat as he swallows around him. 

It’s too much.

Freddie has to dig the heels of his hands against his eyes, completely overwhelmed, completely shattered, shaking hard as he comes down from it. 

He’s barely finished coming when Auston is carefully pulling out the dildo, setting it aside. The emptiness is back, but it barely registers. 

Then, “hey,” Auston says, voice soft and warm and closer than before. “Hey. Fred.” He’s gently pushing Freddie’s hands away from his face, pulling Freddie into his arms instead. “I know, baby. Shhh. C’mere.” He wraps Freddie into a tight hug. “Shhh. Me too, okay?”

Freddie doesn’t even realize what’s happening until he manages a shaky breath, sobbing hard on the exhale. 

He’s never felt this utterly destroyed by sex. 

“You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Auston whispers against Freddie’s hair. “I know. That was a lot, baby.”

Freddie manages a wet sound from the crook of Auston’s neck. He catches himself clinging tightly to Auston. He should ease up his grip, just a little, but he feels completely untethered and Auston is anchoring him. So he hangs on tighter.

“I love you, Fred,” Auston murmurs, soft. “Love you so much.”

Words are beyond Freddie right now, but he manages to nod, clinging a little more. 

Auston holds him until their heartbeats calm and their breaths slow. Then Auston slowly, carefully peels himself away. It’s no more than a few inches, but it feels like a chasm. 

“Just going to get us something to clean up, okay?”

Normally they’d shower, but Freddie isn’t sure he can even sit up, let alone stand.

So Freddie nods, letting him go. Auston’s fingers glide down Freddie’s arm until just their fingertips are holding each other’s. Like he doesn’t want to let go any more than Freddie does. 

“I’ll just be a sec, okay?”

And he’s true to his word. Auston is back quickly with a damp face cloth. He’d usually just toss it to Freddie so he could take care of himself, but instead Auston settles back between Freddie’s legs and slowly, carefully starts wiping him down. That’s never happened before. 

It’s so intimate that Freddie‘s breath hitches in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, shivering, grateful.

The cloth feels cool against his skin, a welcome relief from the friction of Auston’s thighs. He feels so sensitive all over, skin almost too tight, so he gasps when the cloth gently touches between his legs. 

“I know,” Auston whispers, touch light. “I'm sorry, sweetheart.” There’s a pause, another soothing swipe. “That okay?”

Freddie nods, still shivering. He hears the face cloth get tossed towards the bathroom before Auston settles in the bed, pulling the duvet up with him. 

Auston pulls Freddie close. “C’mere, baby,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around him. 

Freddie settles, curled tight up against him. He feels shaken, wrecked, and almost helpless. But safe. Safe and secure in Auston’s arms. Grounded. 

So he clings to Auston, worried it might be too much, but Auston seems to be holding him just as tightly. 

His breath evens out as he listens to the steady rhythm of Auston’s heartbeat. It calms him. Slows him down. Steadies him. 

Like always.

The last thing he remembers before falling asleep is the feeling of soft fingertips against his cooling skin and gentle kisses in his hair. 


	6. Prologue: The One Where it Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this one for a while. It's longer than the others, was going to be its own thing, but it's as Scottsdale as Scottsdale could be. So here's your prologue.
> 
> That should be it for this series. I'll reorder the chapters later.
> 
> Thanks, everyone. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even pretend to know what these dudes get up to in real life. Probably not this. This story is just for fun and I'm really not making any actual assumptions about anyone's sexuality or preferences.
> 
> Typos are my own.
> 
> Circumstances are due to quarantine, but quarantine is not central to the story if that's not your cup of tea.

It’s been a few days since he got to Scottsdale and it’s the first opportunity Freddie’s had to just lay naked on his bed. 

After dinner, Auston said he was going out to the deck to, “get some fresh air.” Freddie suspects that’s also his way of giving him space, so he’s taking the opportunity. 

It’s only been a few days, and that normally wouldn’t be the end of the world, but he’s low key horny and not sure why. Maybe it’s the fact that he packed the good lube and kind of hasn’t stopped thinking about it. 

He remembers a time in his life when he didn’t understand the point of lube, when he’d be totally fine spitting into his palm or stealing hotel hand lotion as a treat. He’s an adult now, damn it. A handsomely-paid athlete. He’s worth lube. Good lube.

He showers first, because it’s Scottsdale and he’s been sweating in the heat, body still adjusting from Toronto’s March weather. He goes to his toiletry bag, not yet unpacked, and grabs the bottle before he lays down on the bed. 

He feels a thrum of excitement in his veins as he opens the bottle and pours some onto his fingers. He’s already hard in anticipation. 

Enough waiting. Enough anticipation. He takes himself in his hand. Just the feeling of being touched is almost sinfully good. 

Okay, maybe he’s way past low key. 

This lube is the best. It’s slick but not greasy. Wet but doesn’t drip. For a guy who likes what he likes, he  _ really _ likes this one. It’s perfect. Just like the feeling of his hand stroking up, surrounding himself, is perfect. 

He’s perfectly aware of his surroundings, too. Aware that he’s not at home, not in a completely private space, but that he has privacy. It’s been years since he’s had to jerk off with a roommate somewhere. That’s okay. 

He’s working up to a slightly faster pace now, fingers swirling around the head of his cock on almost every upstroke, and it’s good. Fuck, it feels really good. He tugs his balls with his other hand, rolling them gently, and can’t stop from tipping his head back. 

He nearly moans out, but remembers himself. He bites his lip instead. But that just sparks another feeling. Not quite a memory, but close enough, of someone else biting his lip. While riding him. And yes. That’s exactly where his brain needed to go. 

He lets his eyes slip shut as he rolls his hips up, fucking into his fist once. It ignites something inside him, another thought, of teeth on his neck, just below his ear. He doesn’t realize he’s rolled his head to the side a bit to give better access to, well, no one. But it feels good. It feels perfect. 

He keeps rolling his hips, tightening his fist slightly. Freddie can feel his balls drawing up. Can feel the orgasm start to build. There’s a telltale tingle deep in his thighs, through his abdomen, and he  _ wants _ . He needs to come all of a sudden. 

But he’s not ready for this to be over quite yet. He wants to indulge. He’s barely gotten started. So he slows down, imagines that his partner is slowing down too. Just catching their breath.

And then spreads his legs wider, lets his lubed fingers slip lower, lower, past his balls. 

There’s a hitch in his breath as he circles his own entrance. Fuck. It’s been a while since he’s done this, but he’s got the  _ good _ lube. It would be a waste not to use it. 

So he goes for it, knowing the bedroom door is closed. Knowing he can keep quiet. Knowing how good it’ll feel.

And fuck. Doesn’t it, though. It’s just a tease, really, but a tease is more action than he’s had in longer than he’d care to admit. His other hand picks up the pace once again and he swears he feels those lips from before back on his neck. Short nails scraping down his chest.

Jesus fuck. He’s getting wound up already, way too quickly. He has to pull himself back from the edge two more times before he feels like it won’t hurt his pride to come.

But then, by the time he’s finally allowing himself to let go, he just can’t seem to crest. Can’t seem to tip himself over the edge. He’s coasting.

He’s close, though. So close he can feel it. So close it’s making his mouth water. It’s making the muscles in his thighs shake, but something keeps holding him back. 

He tries thinking about having his nipples pinched, but he struggles because his hands are occupied. He tries fingering himself deeper, but the angle is suddenly all wrong and awkward for his wrist. He tries teasing himself in a way that, if he thinks about it really hard, might feel like a tongue flicking against him. 

But he just can’t. It’s suddenly too much and not enough stimulation. Too much and not enough lube. Too much and not enough happening in his head. He can’t focus. He just wants everything or nothing. More something. Less something? 

Fucking fuck. He’s stuck in his head. 

And then he hears Auston’s voice call up from the living room. “Freddie? Fred! I’m going to destroy Mitchy in Call of Duty. Wanna come?”

Freddie’s orgasm hits him like a freight train, then. He’s not sure what happened, what finally pushed him over the edge, but he’s coming. Hard. His hips buck up into his fist, and he’s striping his stomach like a fucking Pollock. 

It’s so good he can’t move after. 

He’s not sure if he managed to keep quiet, doesn’t know if Auston knows what he was up to, but he doesn’t exactly care either. So he lays boneless on the bed until his heart stops thundering in his chest. 

By then, the come is nearly dried on his skin. 

He finally rolls out of bed and goes to the ensuite. Does what he needs to. Then he gets dressed and stretches as he walks out of the room, making his way to the main floor. “Hey,” he says, squinting against the comparatively bright lights. “What time is it?”

“You take a little nappy-poo?” Auston chirps. 

And yeah, Fred feels as relaxed as if he had. He honestly can’t remember coming that hard in a long time. It was probably a Top 10 in his books. Just a shame that it was in his own hand, but those circumstances don’t seem to be changing as long as they’re in quarantine. So that’s fine. 

He sits himself down on the couch and watches Auston play. 

—

It’s another few days before Freddie really even has time to think about his dick, which is a testament to how much fun he and Auston are having. Auston’s friend Trevor stays with them at the house instead of Auston’s condo sometimes, and it’s good. It’s fun. 

They’re busy filling up their time with activities. Though truthfully, none of those activities have much to do with hockey. Except ping pong, if Freddie looks at it from a hand/eye perspective.

Freddie reads an article about how it’s perfectly normal to regress in quarantine, so he feels justified in reliving his 20’s that he was too busy to live quite this way. He sacrificed those years, working his way up in a way Auston hasn’t had to. So all of this, this hiatus, is being justified as his attempt to make up for lost time. Especially with the way they lounge by the pool, eat non-nutritionist-approved food, and binge-watch TV. It’s amazing.

Auston tries out his blades on the freshly-finished sport court. That’s basically the closest thing to hockey in Arizona without access to ice right now, so Freddie’s itching to jump in net. He brought his gear, though he knows it would shred the shit out of his pads. Still, it’s hockey, and hockey is what he knows best. 

He watches Auston take shots on a Carey Price shooter tutor he bought as a joke. It was cute at first, but now it’s killing Freddie slowly.

He brings it up, but Auston keeps refusing, saying he’s not going to take shots on him. The sport court isn’t the same as ice, he says. It will kill his knees and ruin him before the season starts back up again, he says. He’s not doing that to his best friend, he says.

So Freddie plays out, practices stick-handling. Which, fine. That’s helpful, like ping pong. Like his tennis balls. Like stretching to keep his flexibility where it needs to be.

But it gets old quick. So he bails early in the afternoon one day, when the sun is at its hottest, to lounge in his room. Maybe work on the next playlist before he’s hounded by the marketing team. 

The playlist can wait as soon as he sees his toiletry bag on the bathroom counter. 

He strips out of his shorts and t-shirt quickly, and starts. 

It’s good, really good. Almost as good as a few days ago. For the first few minutes, at least. 

But that’s how long it takes for his brain to catch up with him. Then his mind starts to wander this way and that, and he’s unable to focus. 

So he grabs his laptop because porn is a fun option, but he doesn’t even know what he feels like watching. 

The indecision is killing him. His sudden lack of focus, an impediment. And all he wants to do is come.

But finally, after an incredibly frustrating fifteen minutes, he’s done. 

Done is not a word he ever thought he’d associate with coming, but what he just did feels so perfunctory that it leaves him wholly unsatisfied. In fact, it’s made his mood turn sour. He never thought he’d resent an orgasm, but alas.

He spends the rest of the night brooding while Auston and Trevor start watching garbage shows on Netflix.

He goes to bed and endures a restless sleep.

—

The rest of the week is far too similar to the previous one. There’s more screen time than Freddie knows how to handle. More media calls and online appearances. More lounging by the pool, soaking up the sun. More ping pong. 

Less of anything that resembles hockey. 

—

By now, Freddie has completely fallen out of his normal routine. His entire rhythm for the regular season is shot. His rhythm for anytime, really. And if the league called them up and said they were starting again in a few weeks, Freddie knows it would be challenging. His reflexes are fine, sure. Absolutely. But his muscles feel stiff. His timing would be completely off. 

It’s making him twitchy. Restless. 

And to make matters worse, every time he tries jerking off it’s mediocre at best. He knows he’s getting stuck in his own head, so he doesn’t bother trying again after that for almost a week. 

That’s possibly the worst idea he’s had in a while.

Auston has noticed the shift in his mood, and tries to help in his own, unique way: “what the fuck is your deal, Fred?” 

By now, Freddie is sexually frustrated beyond anything that’s considered healthy. 

“Nothing,” he mumbles under his breath. “I’m going for a run.” Even though it’s getting dark out and Auston lives basically in the middle of nowhere. It’s probably a bad idea, but so is watching trash TV with Auston, who constantly dominates the controller.

Besides, it gives him a chance to get his bearings in the neighbourhood. It’s the first time he’s more than a few hundred metres away from the house and not in a car. It helps clear his mind and restore some semblance of balance like nothing has to this point.

Before he realizes it he’s run for a solid 13 km. It’s the next best thing to running 31 km (he has a brand to uphold), which he isn’t willing to do after not running for weeks. He’ll probably feel it tomorrow, but maybe that’s what he needs. He’s finally able to clear his head a little and feel like he’s getting his feet back under him, literally and figuratively. 

He feels good.

He gets back to the house, showers, and goes to sleep. He doesn’t want to watch TV. He doesn’t want to disrupt the equilibrium he’s finally found. He doesn’t even want to think about how much he wants to have a satisfying orgasm instead of a mediocre one. He just wants to float off until tomorrow.

And it’s fine. Until it isn’t. 

He sleeps, sure, but he sleeps so well that he dreams. And his subconscious must want to torture him, because he’s dreaming of being sucked off. 

In his dream his eyes are closed. All he feels is wet heat surrounding him, alternating between licking up and down his length, gentle flicks of a tongue, and gentle suction at the head of his cock. He moans out loud, spreading his legs like a cheap whore. But he doesn’t care. It feels so good, he’s so hot for it, and it’s a dream. He can do what he wants. 

He reaches down to card his fingers through his partner’s hair. And when the owner of those perfect lips and wicked tongue feels his hand on the back of their head, they moan indulgently. 

It takes Freddie half a heartbeat to know that voice. 

It’s Auston’s. 

He comes so hard, so fast, that it hurts. 

As he comes down from it he opens his eyes, blinking up at the darkness around him. 

The sheets are a mess. 

He’s a fucking disaster. 

It’s hours before he’s able to find anything resembling sleep. 

—

He gets up in the morning feeling simultaneously sated and unsettled. He’s not sure he should have liked that quite as much as he did. 

Fuck, though. He really did. 

He did so much that he barely slept, wondering why his traitorous brain would do that to him.

At 7 am his brain supplied him with some valuable information. Namely, that the really awesome orgasm from a few weeks ago only happened after Auston called out for him.

Fuck.

By 9 am he gives up on any hope of sleeping. He walks out of his room, down the stairs, and finds Auston in the kitchen making breakfast. 

He’s pretty sure he blushes immediately when Auston looks at him. But it’s only because Auston gives him a smirk that makes Freddie wonder if he knows everything. Was Freddie loud? He wouldn’t know. He was asleep. 

What a nightmare.

“Making an omelette. You want one?” Auston asks him, watching, evaluating. Judging? No. Not judging. He’s just being Auston.

But it’s the type of pointed gaze Freddie isn’t sure he can handle with  _ maybe _ a couple of hours’ worth of decent sleep.

“Yeah,” Freddie grumbles, heading straight for the coffeemaker. Shit. Manners. “Please.”

Auston chuckles at him. “You okay? Sure you don’t want some Bailey’s in that? Whiskey?”

“You don’t even have Bailey’s. And what are you trying to say?” Whiskey would be nice, actually.... But no. It’s 9 am.

Auston raises his eyebrows, stupid smirk still present. “I’m saying you’ve looked better, Big Red. What the fuck happened to you? How bad was your run?”

Big Red. Is that a swipe at the fact he’s probably blushing? Jerk. Freddie scrubs a hand over his face, hoping to wipe the blush away with it. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“You looked pretty asleep when I poked my head in to see if you wanted to go for a swim with us last night.”

Freddie freezes at that. “You– what?”

“Chill out, the door was open. I still knocked. I was actually a bit worried you were dead or something so I looked in. You were  _ asleep _ .” Auston throws some green peppers and mushrooms into the frying pan. “You were actually snoring. I didn’t realize you snored.” 

“I don’t snore.”

Auston smirks at him. “Sure, boomer.”

Freddie glares. His skin suddenly feels too tight. Like there isn’t enough of it to cover him and keep him from feeling completely exposed.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Freddie says, probably too quickly, shaking his head. “Just, um, had some fucked up dreams. That’s all. Woke up, couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Did you not try jerking off?” Auston suggests unhelpfully.

Freddie tries to hide in his coffee mug. This is mortifying. Auston looks like he’s waiting for an answer that Freddie doesn’t have. He finally settles on, “didn’t help,” before taking a sip of his still too-hot coffee. 

He wonders briefly if the reason he dreamed about Auston was because he knew, subconsciously, that Auston had been there earlier. That would make sense, really. So for a few moments, he feels less awkward about the fact he dreamed that his best friend sucked him off.

Though that doesn’t stop him from accidentally staring at Auston’s plush lips for more time than is considered platonically acceptable. Thankfully, he looks away before Auston notices.

“What else did you guys wind up doing last night?” he asks, needing to change the focus away from himself.

Auston tells him about the late night swim and subsequent TV binge-watching. The rest of the day continues on uneventfully.

—

A few more days pass and Freddie is tired, he’s restless, and he’s dreaming of Auston. 

In last night’s dream, Auston toyed with his nipples for so long that Freddie was nearly sobbing. He didn’t even know he liked having his nipples played with that much until he startled himself awake from coming in his underwear like a teenager. 

Now he’s left with an itch under his skin that he can’t seem to shake. It’s the same sort of thing he sometimes feels the day before a game when he gets too worked up.

So he does what he usually does to solve that problem: he walks into the living room, carrying a towel.

“Matts, can I use your bathtub?” It’s the only one in the house. He wouldn’t ask otherwise. 

Auston doesn’t even blink. “Yah, no, for sure.” Sometimes he doesn’t realize how Canadian he’s become.

Freddie thanks him and heads back upstairs to the master bathroom. 

He turns on the faucet and lets the hot water run. He can already feel his muscles relaxing. It’s Pavlovian. Shame there isn’t a game to prepare for, but this tried and true coping mechanism might still work for easing the itch. 

He strips out of his clothes and turns off the tap before he climbs into the tub. 

He melts into the water. It’s glorious. It’s so good he doesn’t even realize he’s let out a grateful groan until it reverberates off the walls. 

Well. That was shockingly loud. There’s no way Auston didn’t hear that downstairs. But he can’t exactly put it back. 

He laughs quietly to himself, finding it hilarious that he can keep quiet when he’s actually jerking off, but not when he, well, isn’t. He’ll get chirped. He knows he will. But that doesn’t matter much right now. Now he soaks. Lazing. Blissful. 

He feels loose and pliant after. It’s almost as good as a top tier orgasm. Almost. Not quite, but it’s enough to feel better.

Freddie dries off and wraps the towel, loose around his hips. He goes to his room and gets dressed. 

Fuck, he feels fantastic. 

He makes his way downstairs, almost floating. It was exactly what he needed.

Auston hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch. Freddie isn’t surprised. Nor does he care. 

Auston isn’t looking at him, but asks, “did you at least wash the come off my tub–” he starts, but the words die on his lips. 

Freddie looks over to him, ready to fire back, but Auston is just staring at him. Gawking, really.

He looks down to check that he didn’t forget to put on shorts. He’s good. But then again, so is the tank top he’s wearing. It’s tighter than anything he’d normally wear outside of practice, but it’s Arizona and he’s hot after the bath.

He looks good, he realizes. He looks really good.

And he’s feeling horny and daring. 

“See something you like?” Freddie knows he can chirp as well as Auston can.

Auston blinks a couple of times, and looks down. He doesn’t say anything.

Well, then. “Thanks for letting me soak,” Freddie says, trying not to feel irrationally disappointed as he walks away to get some trail mix.

—

It’s not that things get awkward between them, but the problem is that they’re not  _ not _ awkward.

There’s something there, something Freddie can’t quite pinpoint how to fix. But he feels like it needs fixing.

For his part, the fact he can’t really shake his dreams about Auston is becoming a problem. Not because his brain supplied him with the idea. No. What’s problematic is that he wants it to be real. The more time he spends in Auston’s house, around Auston, the more he wants it. The more he wants him.

Never in their years of friendship has he let his brain stray in that direction. 

Has he hooked up with guys? You bet. 

Have any of them looked like Auston? No– Oh, shit. Maybe more than a couple.

In hindsight, this might have been a problem for longer than he’s realized.

Still, he has to wonder if he’s just more aware of Auston than usual. More aware of being crowded on the couch when they watch TV. More aware of where Auston is when they’re in the pool. More aware of his form when they’re throwing a football around outside. He’s never been so aware of another person, and he’s worried his dreams are getting to him.

So he decides to cook dinner. A decent one. Trevor does that, mostly, but he’s at the condo this week. 

They’ve had groceries delivered and done almost nothing with them because Uber Eats also delivers and requires less effort. 

He needs the distraction, and he needs to feel productive.

He looks in the fridge, evaluating his options. Some things will start getting questionable within the next couple of days, so he should probably use those up first. Looks like it’s tilapia on tonight’s menu.

He pulls out a few ingredients, and as he looks back to see what he’s already placed on the kitchen island behind him, he catches Auston looking at him. Not just looking.  _ Looking. _ Or so he thinks. Totally wishful thinking on his part. More of this hyperawareness he’s trying to tamp down.

“I’m making fish tonight,” he says into the fridge, seeing what’s in the crisper. “That okay?”

Auston clears his throat. “Yeah. Need help?”

So, so much. But not with anything he’d be willing to admit out loud.

“Don’t think so,” he says instead. He wanted to cook for the distraction, but now that Auston’s here, he kind of doesn’t want him to leave. “But you can hang out if you want.” Casual. Smooth. Not doing himself any favours.

Auston sits down at one of the stools and makes himself comfortable. 

Freddie pulls out a cutting board and knife, surprised Auston had either of those two things, and organizes everything he has.

“If you cut yourself with that, I’m not taking you to the hospital,” Auston says, smirking.

That fucking smirk. It’s perfect. It’s bolded and italicized by his stupid mustache that Freddie has grown so fucking fond of.

“I’ll remember that.” He smirks back, then mutters, “asshole,” under his breath.

It makes Auston laugh, which Freddie quickly realizes is hitting just a little differently than it used to. He wants to hear more of it. Like constantly, for example. 

Fuck. This might really be a problem.

Freddie focuses instead on cooking, starting off by cutting the ends of the asparagus stalks before cutting them into smaller pieces. He looks up, since Auston is suddenly a bit quiet, and catches him staring again. “You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Just, uh, didn’t sleep well last night.” He sounds distracted, but doing a decent job of hiding it. Anyone other than Freddie wouldn’t notice it.

Freddie’s willing to bet he hasn’t exactly had crazy dreams that are making his head spin the way he has, but he wants to be supportive. “It’s probably the stress.” He looks up at Auston, offering a half-smile.

“Yeah,” Auston says, looking down at his hands. “I’m not exactly stressed out, though.”

“No? The uncertainty isn’t getting to you?” Because it’s been getting to him.

Auston weighs something for a moment. “Not uncertainty about the season, no. I’ll be ready. I’m ready now, really. That’s not an issue.” He sounds sure of himself in a way that only Auston could be. Hockey is what he’s built for. So of course he’d be ready at any time.

“Then what? What aren’t you sure of.”

It’s a long while before Auston just says, “nothing.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure.” Smooth. 

“How about you? Sleeping better?” Auston looks at the coffee supply. “We haven’t run out of coffee yet, so I’m assuming you’re okay?”

Freddie chuckles and seasons some tiny potatoes. “Still having fucked up dreams.” 

“About what?”

“Nope.” He reaches for a sheet pan.

“What do you mean, nope? You’re not going to tell me? How bad can they be?”

Freddie gives him a challenging look. “You tell me why you didn’t sleep well.”

That should shut him up. But after a moment, Auston, the competitive person he is, gives Freddie a leveled stare. “I'm having vivid dreams that are constantly reminding me I haven’t gotten laid in weeks.”

“Hmmmm.” Fair enough. “Same,” Freddie offers, noncommittally. 

Auston looks at him, evaluating. “Same, you haven’t gotten laid in weeks, or same, your dreams are blue-balling you?”

“Have you seen anyone unexpected here? Both.”

Auston smirks again, knowingly. “Is she hot, at least? In your dreams?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Freddie rolls his eyes and pre-heats the oven. “That’s not the right question.”

“How is that not the right question? Is she or not?”

Freddie just looks at him. He’s never hidden his attraction to guys, but it’s also really never come up.

It takes a second for Auston to catch on, but Freddie recognizes the moment he does. His smirk is a giveaway. “Huh. Is  _ he _ hot?”

Good boy. “Yeah, he’s pretty good looking.” Fucking gorgeous, really. With his tanned skin, toned muscles. Dark, curling hair that’s growing out in a way that makes Freddie want to run his fingers through it while they kiss.

“Cruel.”

Freddie huffs. “Exactly.” Fuck.

Auston looks sideways, casually throwing out, “mine’s been hot too.” Not that Freddie asked.

“Good. I’m glad.” He seasons the tilapia and washes his hands. 

“Yeah, it would be easier if he realized it.”

Freddie’s heart skips a beat because that’s not something he knew, but he lets the admission roll off his shoulders as he grabs a frying pan. “Someone you know?”

“Yup.”

“Awkward,” Freddie jokes. Because if he doesn’t brush this off as a joke he’s going to get really jealous really quickly of whoever Auston is dreaming about.

Auston laughs. “Only because he’s oblivious. And a complete idiot.”

“He sounds awesome,” he deadpans. Fucker. It’s too late; Freddie hates this guy already.

Auston gets this fond look in his eyes. “Yeah, he is.”

Now Freddie wants to know. Because, frankly, he doesn’t like the idea of Auston giving fond looks to anyone. And he needs to know who to beat up. “Well, who is it?”

Auston smirks. “Oh, just someone.”

Fucking fuck. This is fucking bullshit. “Whatever.”

Auston gets up, then, and walks to the fridge. Grabs two beers. “Want one?”

And yes. Fine. Obviously. Because he’s feeling a little testy now. Maybe beer will help. “Sure.” Manners. “Thanks.”

He puts the potatoes in the oven and waits for Auston to sit down again so he can grumpily start cooking the fish and asparagus. But Auston won’t move. He’s standing there, watching. Hovering.

“You really don’t know, do you?”

Freddie closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. What the fuck is he going on about? Freddie just wants to cook dinner and go to his room so he can sulk. He was trying to do this to feel better, and now he’s irrationally jealous of not only his unattainable dreams of Auston, but Auston’s seemingly more plausible dreams featuring someone he now hates. Even though he doesn’t have a clue who that is. “Know what?”

Auston huffs, stunned. “You’re an idiot, Fred.”

Freddie rolls his eyes and turns on the gas element.

“Turn it off,” Auston says, stepping closer.

“How do you expect me to cook?”

Auston reaches for the oven controls and turns them off too.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Auston crowds him, then. “I don’t want it to burn.”

Freddie backs up a little, until his back is against the kitchen island. 

“Cook it later,” Auston says, soft. His voice is like silk. And it’s deeper. And he moves to bracket Freddie’s hips with his arms. “Need to test a theory.”

Auston looks at him, waiting, waiting, before he leans in and presses their lips together.

And– oh. OH. 

Oh god.

Fuck yes.

Freddie moans into it, confused about where he lost the thread but really glad he’s got something to grasp onto now. He tilts his head so they can deepen the kiss.

Auston growls in response. “There you are,” he murmurs, low. Fuck. “Been waiting for you to catch on.”

Oh god. “Oh god,” Freddie whispers, closing his eyes, willing himself to wake up. Because this would be the cruelest of all dreams. A nightmare. But when he opens them, Auston is still looking at him, looking at him fondly, looking at him like he hasn’t been able to actually look at him until just now.

It’s been a while since Freddie’s kissed someone with a mustache. A while since he’s kissed someone as strong as him. As tall as him. Someone who can push their thigh between his, like  _ that _ , and know exactly how good that feels. 

Freddie does not whimper. Nope. Except that he absolutely does. 

They part only to breathe, which is hard to do when Auston grinds his hips exactly where Freddie needs him to. 

Freddie’s arms are wrapped tight around him. “I can’t come unless I think about you,” he blurts out stupidly.

Auston moans, backing away but pulling Freddie by his sweatpants to keep him close. They’re making their way around the island to the living room. “Fuck, that’s hot,” Auston says, without a hint of teasing. 

And, objectively, Freddie isn’t sure it should be. But Auston is on board. Oh fuck, is he ever.

They’re making their way to the couch. The same couch they’ve sat on together dozens of times over the past month. Somehow, it looks completely different.

The backs of his legs bump against the grey suede and Auston pulls back enough to murmur, “lie down.”

Freddie does, pulling Auston down with him. 

Auston gasps into Freddie’s mouth, climbing on top, lining their hips up just so. “Fuck, Fred.”

Sure, it’s not the most profound thing Auston’s ever said, but it’s more than Freddie can manage right now. All he wants is Auston’s tongue in his mouth. All he wants is to run his hands down Auston’s back, grab his ass with both hands and pull them tighter together. 

So he does, and the sound Auston makes is worth the risk of what this could do to their friendship. To their living situation. Maybe it’s selfish, but they seem to be on the same page. 

Auston grinds his hips down then, ripping Freddie’s focus away from the worry. It feels so good. So right. He doesn’t care how desperate the whimper sounds after it’s torn from his lungs. 

The fact that Auston growls at him before he buries his face in Freddie’s neck doesn’t hurt. “Fred,” he moans against his skin. 

Freddie can only respond by grinding his hips up to meet Auston’s, suddenly desperate, while grabbing Auston’s ass and pushing them together, harder.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Auston murmurs into Freddie’s neck, groaning. “Need more of you.” He moves to kiss Freddie again and slides his hand between them, cupping Freddie through his sweats.

And god. It’s been so long since someone else has touched his dick. It’s almost the end of him right there, but he distracts himself by slipping his hands into the backs of Auston’s sweatpants.

“Fuck yes, Fred,” Auston groans, taking his hand off Freddie’s bulge only so he can pull his sweats and underwear down. “Fuck.”

Freddie still can’t manage such eloquence so he doesn’t bother trying. He just tugs his own pants down and cries out when Auston gets a hand on him. 

“Fuck, you sound good. You feel so fucking good,” Auston murmurs, wrapping his hand around both of them. 

It’s dry, but Freddie can’t be bothered to care. Not when Auston is finally touching him.

Freddie tips his head back and tries to breathe. He barely can, caught in the heady rush of this actually happening. 

Then Auston runs his thumb over both their heads and swipes around the precome collecting there. Fucking fuck it’s good. 

Freddie didn’t realize how wet he was. How wet _ they _ are. He can’t stop the shiver that courses through him, and can’t help but cry out when Auston captures his mouth in another kiss. 

“Want to make you come, baby.”

And it’s the use of ‘baby,’ that triggers something inside Freddie. It’s something he’s used to calling girls he’s with. Maybe he’s let it slip with some of the guys he’s fucked, too. But no one has ever called  _ him _ that. It suddenly makes his dick throb. It makes him feel simultaneously vulnerable and protected. “Aus,” he gasps, voice hoarse. Leave it to that asshole to find a kink he didn’t know he had.

They grind together, Auston’s hand tight around them, and Freddie feels so good. He’s scared this will be over embarrassingly quickly, but he’s been worked up for weeks, desperate for proper release, and by the way Auston is working them both together, he figures Auston’s been in the same boat too. 

“Let go, baby,” Auston says after a few minutes, looking him in the eyes like he knows he pushed the right button with ‘baby’ and is testing the theory. “Let me see you come.”

Freddie can’t hold on after that. Not really. He’s helpless to stop his orgasm from completely derailing him. 

It rocks him hard, to his core. Erupts from so deep down that he cries out with it, gasping for air, his vision nearly whiting out.

He doesn’t ever remember coming so hard, so quickly. Oh god, he needed that.

It takes him a while, but when he’s able to get his bearings, Auston is there whispering softly. Voice soothing. Murmuring. 

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he whispers. 

Freddie manages a dry laugh. 

He’s not even sure if Auston came, so he looks between them and sees his t-shirt is ruined.

“I think we both needed that,” Auston says, proud, cocky, gorgeous.

Freddie huffs out another laugh, closing his eyes for a moment. He feels fucking awesome. Almost feels strung out from it. 

“You okay?” Auston is watching him, smirking knowingly. 

Freddie stretches a little under him, feeling his limbs come back online. “Fucking fantastic.” He can’t stop smiling. 

Auston smiles back at him, brushing Freddie’s hair off his face. “Wanted that to happen for a while.”

“How long?”

“Mmmm. Months,” Auston says, thinking.

“Months?” Freddie reaches up for a kiss. He didn’t realize how much he wanted kisses until now. Until he realized he could have them. Now he’s not sure how to stop.

“Yeah. Months.” Auston murmurs between kisses, seemingly unable to stop as well. ”That time my family came to visit in October and you came over for dinner.” He hums appreciatively when Freddie runs his fingers through his hair. “Like you belonged.”

Freddie smiles at the memory. At the enchiladas. At the way Auston’s family expected him to be there. 

The way he didn’t realize he was feeling homesick, but Auston and his family did. And they made him feel so welcome, so at home that night that it filled the void. “Yeah,” he whispers, loosening Auston’s curls.

Auston leans into the touch. 

“Wanted to touch you like this.” He tips his chin towards Auston’s hair in explanation. 

Auston laughs. “Haven’t even showered since I went swimming. My hair is gross.”

“Don’t care.”

“No?”

Freddie smiles. “No. Just means it’ll be even better later.” Then he pulls Auston down for another kiss. It’s sweet, chaste.

Auston beams at him before shifting a little so his head could rest on Freddie’s chest. “What did we do in your dreams?”

“Who said it was you,” Freddie jokes, wrapping his other arm around Auston’s back, holding him there before he tries squirming away. They’ll probably need to throw out their t-shirts. 

Auston, stuck, turns his head so his chin digs into Freddie’s chest purposefully. Freddie yelps before Auston lays back down. 

“You said he was absolute perfection.”

“No,” Freddie says, weary of another chinning. “I think I said he’s good-looking. You're so full of yourself.”

“You mean confident. Gorgeous, funny.” He turns to rest his chin on Freddie’s chest again, but gently this time. “Perfection.”

Freddie rolls his eyes. 

Auston presses a kiss to Freddie’s sternum, through his t-shirt, avoiding the come. “Seriously, though. I’ve been waiting for all week to make a move.”

“I’ve been waiting all week to avoid making a move I might regret.”

“Idiot. Do you regret it?”

Freddie shakes his head. “No.” Not for a second.

Auston runs his fingers along Freddie’s side. “Look what we’ve been missing.”

Freddie can’t deny that, so he wraps his arms a little tighter around Auston. Basking in it. Making sure it’s real. 

—

Freddie eventually finishes making dinner. It’s nicer, having Auston’s fingers touch his every time he passes something that Freddie didn’t really need him to reach. But it’s Auston’s house, and it’s fun to pretend he’s forgotten where Auston put things.

They clean up after, Auston loading the dishwasher in a way that makes Freddie want to roll his eyes. He’s wonderful. 

Eventually, they find themselves back on the couch. 

Auston turns The Office on for background noise, but climbs into Freddie’s lap almost right away. They kiss slowly, taking their time, exploring. 

Freddie doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lapful of Auston, when all he had before today was a lapful of Auston’s feet. Or the feeling of being crowded on the couch when Auston would ignore his personal space.

He thinks again about how he’s been feeling crowded lately, something he chalked up to his own paranoia. But now he thinks maybe it wasn’t that at all. That he wasn’t making up the slow deterioration of boundaries. He can’t help but smile.

“What?” Auston asks, pulling back to look at him.

Freddie smiles wider. “You were right. I’m an idiot,” he admits.

Auston beams and leans in closer to trail his tongue down the length of Freddie’s throat. “Obviously,” he whispers when he gets to Fred’s collarbone. “What made you realize that?”

Freddie tips his head back, resting against the back of the couch. “Couch,” he murmurs. “I thought you were crowding me just to be annoying.”

There’s a huff of breath against his skin. “Idiot.”

“Mmm. Got there in the end.”

Auston sits back and runs his fingers down Freddie’s chest, down towards the hem of his t-shirt and lifts it up, over Freddie’s head. He gives a very appreciative look.

“And when I got out of the bath?” Freddie says, watching Auston watch him.

“Wanted to rip your clothes off.” He trails his fingertips along Freddie’s bare skin, watching goosebumps rise in their wake. “Did you come in my tub?”

Freddie laughs, shivering at Auston’s touch. “No. The water just felt really good.”

Auston laughs. “You’re so fucking easy.” He presses his lips to Freddie’s shoulder. “That was it, though. I was done when I heard that. I knew I needed to make that sound come out of you.”

Fred can’t stop himself from moaning softly, and he hooks his fingers into the bottom of Auston’s t-shirt. Auston looks as eager to get out of it as Freddie is to take it from him. 

But when it’s gone, when Auston is sitting in his lap, bare-chested, Freddie finally lets himself look. Truly look. And he’s fixated on the sleeve of ink on Auston’s arm. Mesmerized by it, actually. “Can I–” he asks, fingertips hovering before he looks to Auston’s face for permission.

“Of course.” He runs his other hand through the scruff on the back of Freddie’s neck. “Haven’t you ever looked?”

Freddie shrugs. “It’s private.” He’s never wanted to make Auston uncomfortable. Only glancing when Auston would show him the latest addition. A small detail here and there. But he’s never been allowed to touch. Never allowed to take his time.

“If it was private, I would have tattooed it somewhere no one would see it.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Freddie defends. 

“You’ve never looked. That’s not the same thing.”

Freddie looks up at Auston’s face, into his eyes, and leans forward to press his lips to Auston’s shoulder. To flick his tongue out against the skin. 

“Fuck,” Auston gasps softly. “Didn’t know you had a thing for it.”

Freddie smiles against his skin. “Didn’t know I had a thing for a lot of stuff.” He moves Auston’s arm so it’s easier to kiss down its length. Easier to drag the tip of his tongue along it. He’s rewarded by goosebumps and soft sounds.

“Fuck, Fred,” Auston gasps when Freddie reaches the inside of his wrist.

Freddie feels it too. Feels like every touch is tenfold what it would be normally. Like he’s so much more sensitive. So much more responsive. That the feeling of Auston’s fingers in his hair is doing everything for him right now. “Aus,” he manages, trailing off.

Auston leans in close, so his lips are millimeters away from Freddie’s ear. “Really, really want you to fuck me tonight.” He seals it with a soft kiss to Freddie’s temple.

Freddie’s cock throbs at that, hard so quickly he’d be dizzy if he wasn’t sitting down. He moans indulgently. “Want that.”

So Auston climbs off his lap and takes him by the hand, leading him up the stairs to his room. 

They press up against one another as soon as they’re inside. Freddie’s hands slip into the back of Auston’s shorts, into his underwear, and they both moan when he squeezes.

Auston pulls his own shorts and underwear down in one go, and stands there, pushing himself against Freddie’s chest, then back into Freddie’s hands.

He’s better than Freddie could have imagined. “Bed,” he murmurs against Auston’s lips, steering him closer to the mattress. He strips as soon as they part.

They both pause, just looking at each other. Freddie can feel his mouth watering with want.

He climbs onto the bed and straddles Auston’s hips, looking some more. Looking with his fingers, too.

Auston seems to preen at the attention, which only makes Freddie smile. He shifts down a little so their hips line up, so they’re pressed together from head to toe. 

“Anything you don’t like?” Freddie asks, drawing his fingertips down Auston’s arm until he can link their fingers together, draw Auston’s arm up and over his head so it’s resting on the pillow. He leans over to place soft kisses along the skin, tracing lines of ink with his tongue. 

It makes Auston moan. “Fuck. Not really.” He seems to think it over, then shrugs. 

Freddie nods, moving to kiss the line of Auston’s jaw. “So it’s okay if I eat you out?”

“Oh jesus, fuck yes,” Auston exhales, breathless. “Do that.” 

Freddie hides his smile in Auston’s neck, in the juncture right above his collarbone. He kisses, drags his chin gently over the skin. He’s grateful for his scruff right now, knowing he can tease Auston like this. Knowing he can make Auston gasp when he traces over the same spot with his tongue after.

He’s realizing quickly that he doesn’t just want to fuck Auston. Sure, he wants that too, obviously, but he wants to worship him. Reflect their years as friends and translate it into something tangible. Into a feeling on his skin, deep inside him. 

Auston doesn’t seem to be complaining about the attention.

By the time Freddie is kissing his way down Auston’s stomach, tracing the lines of his abs with his tongue, Auston is so worked up that he’s almost vibrating with need.

Freddie moves to hover over his cock, millimeters away, and changes directions to kiss Auston’s thigh instead. 

“Fucker!” Auston hisses at the feeling of teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there. 

Freddie chuckles and licks the crease between Auston’s leg and crotch and takes in the heady scent. It’s been a long time since he’s done this, but his mouth still waters at the thought.

He can’t wait much longer, and he’s willing to bet Auston can’t either, so he licks a long stripe up Auston’s length, swirling his tongue at the crown.

“Oh fuck,” Auston groans, hands in Freddie’s hair.

Freddie moans at that, taking Auston into his mouth. The sound Auston makes in response causes Freddie’s own cock twitch, and he reaches down to press the heel of his hand against himself.

He catches Auston looking when he hears him gasp, “oh my fucking god.” Auston’s cock twitches in his mouth.

Freddie growls, letting himself go so he can spread Auston’s legs apart and take him further into his mouth. The hands in his hair aren’t pushing, just adding gentle pressure, but it feels good being held there. 

He tries to take Auston in a little further, a little more, but he’s out of practice.

“Fuck,” Auston whispers, “fuck, it’s okay, baby.” He moans. “I’m too close.”

Freddie keeps it shallow, then, slowing down a bit, using his tongue, using his hand. He pulls off and licks down to Auston’s balls, mesmerized by the way Auston tips his head back on the pillow at the sensation.

So Freddie stays there for a moment before he keeps going. Lower, lower, pushing Auston’s legs apart and back until he’s exposed. Open. Until his thighs are shaking with it. 

He doesn’t waste time before sliding the flat of his tongue over Auston’s hole. Doesn’t waste time before flicking, licking, teasing against the rim.

Auston’s hands in his hair pull them tight together, until Auston is practically grinding against Freddie’s mouth. The words pouring out of his mouth are inspiring, and Freddie feels dizzy with lust. Or maybe a slight lack of oxygen.

He works the tip of his finger in under his tongue and feels the shudder course through Auston’s body. 

The sounds. The sounds are unreal. 

Freddie doesn’t have to reach down to feel how much his own cock is leaking. He’s so hard, so turned on, and he’s just getting started. 

He has to pause, pull back just to give them a moment. 

“Don’t stop,” Auston gasps, sounding wrecked.

“I’m no good if I’m unconscious,” Freddie murmurs.

Auston laughs. It’s borderline delirious. 

Freddie looks around. “We need lube.” He needs a distraction before he comes from humping the mattress. 

All Auston can manage is to point in the general direction of the nightstand. 

Freddie reaches for the drawer and opens it, pulling out a condom and the most basic variety of lube imaginable. He points a leveled stare at Auston. “No. We’re not using this.”

“You asked for lube,” Auston says, running fingers through his own hair. “It’s lube.”

“No, this is garbage.”

He gets up off the bed on surprisingly steady legs. 

“Where’re you going?” Auston whines. 

It makes Freddie smile. “I have lube. Hang on.”

He’s back in the time it takes Auston to get mildly annoyed at his absence, based on the look on his face.

“This is lube.”

Auston reaches for it. He scoffs. “This is bougie lube.”

Freddie leans down to press their lips together. “Your ass will thank me later,” he murmurs, snatching the lube and coating his fingers.

He presses the pad of one finger against Auston, waiting, teasing. 

Auston retaliates by pushing himself down impatiently.

Freddie rolls his eyes and pushes his finger in deeper, slowly, just stretching. He’s not going to rush this. 

“Feels like KY to me,” Auston mumbles, smiling, spreading his legs winder.

Freddie smiles back, rolling his eyes as the palm of his other hand slides up the inside of Auston’s thigh. He takes Auston’s cock into his mouth, just playing with the head on his tongue, then slowly taking him a bit deeper. 

“Your mouth,” Auston gasps, soft. He reaches down to trace the outline of Freddie’s lips with his thumb. 

Freddie moans, and pushes his finger deeper into Auston, looking for just the right spot. 

Auston groans softly as soon as he finds it, so Freddie plays, cock in his mouth, finger circling gently around Auston’s prostate. 

“Baby.” Auston moans. “Baby. More. Fuck, more.”

So Freddie withdraws, adds a second finger, starts the stretch again. 

This is one of his favourite parts. Sure he’d be hard-pressed to find a part about sex he doesn’t like, but this build-up is definitely one of the best. Hearing Auston moan, the endless stream of sounds, hips moving with the slow tempo he’s building, like Auston wants more but isn’t willing to let this stop. 

Freddie knows he’s the one causing that reaction with the tips of his fingers and the tip of his tongue. He can’t remember the last time he fingered someone for this long, just teasing, exploring, making them feel good. 

He loves it. So much so that he doesn’t even realize he’s grinding his own hips into the mattress like a teenager again. Until he feels precome soaking into the sheets. 

He has to shift, has to stop before he gets much closer. 

Auston blinks his eyes open, looking blissfully wrecked already. “Okay?”

Freddie responds by pressing his fingers a little more intentionally over Auston’s prostate, smiling when Auston moans, deep, shaking. 

“Fuck, Fred. God, what are you doing to me?” His voice sounds shattered in a way Freddie’s never heard. It’s perfect. 

Freddie moans against Auston’s cock, keeps fingering Auston open. He runs his free hand up the length of Auston’s stomach, chest, just feeling. He closes his eyes, focusing on the taste of him in his mouth, the sounds from his lips. Fuck. Everything about Auston is better than he could have imagined. 

Until Auston takes his hand from where his fingertips are now trailing over Auston’s nipple, and sucks a finger into his mouth. It’s so wanton, so intimate and so perfect that Freddie can’t stop himself from whimpering. 

“Like that, baby?” Auston asks, kissing the tip. 

And Freddie does. Oh god, he does. He didn’t know how much until now, until Auston. It’s something so simple, but the feeling of Auston’s tongue, his warm mouth. It goes straight to his gut.

It’s like this is the start of a new era, that everything before now was pre-Auston and completely irrelevant. And all he knows now is Auston. All that matters are the sounds coming out of him, the way he feels, the way he tastes. What he’s doing to him. 

He whimpers again when Auston licks at his finger, moaning around it. 

He has to stop to catch his breath. Pull off from Auston’s cock, rest his cheek on Auston’s stomach. “Matts,” he whimpers, fingers inside Auston’s mouth, in his ass. Everything is Auston. “Aus.”

“Fuck me, baby,” he says softly with a final flick of his tongue on Freddie’s finger. “I want you, Fred.”

Freddie shuts his eyes at that, overwhelmed. He has to force a breath into his lungs, focusing on small steps to get to the next. 

Like pulling his fingers out and reaching for the condom and lube. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking. 

“Let me,” Auston says, unwrapping the condom and rolling down Freddie’s length. “Kept dreaming about this. About touching you. About how good it would feel being full of you.” Then Auston is taking the bottle, pouring some of the liquid onto his hand. He coats Freddie’s cock, stroking it slowly. 

Freddie watches helplessly, every touch almost too much. 

Auston looks up at him. “Feels nice.”

And Freddie isn’t sure if it’s a massive understatement or a question, but he manages to huff out a startled breath. 

Auston slides his slick fingers down until they’re cupping Freddie’s balls, already drawn up tight, and Freddie feels helpless against a wave of arousal. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Already getting close for me?” There isn’t an ounce of mocking in his voice. 

Freddie nods. It’s all he can manage. Especially with Auston’s slick, roaming hands right where he needs them. Especially when no one has ever called him sweetheart and the last person he thought would call him that is Auston.

Auston looks up at him. “C’mere.” His voice is gentle as he guides Freddie’s cock towards his entrance. “Let me feel you here, baby.”

Freddie readjusts, lowering himself to his elbows. He can feel his stomach flutter, anticipation, need, emotion. He lines up and looks down at Auston. 

Auston watches his face, patient, and leans up to kiss him, pulling him down, pulling him closer. 

Freddie’s cock pushes in. 

They both moan with it, pausing. 

Auston brushes his thumb over Freddie’s cheek, smiling up. “Good lube,” he whispers. 

And any inherent fragility or awkwardness of actually fucking his best friend is gone. Dissipated. Released. Freddie looks down at him and laughs. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Auston agrees, like he felt it too. “Fuck.” They press their lips together. “Fuck me. Let me feel you.”

Freddie honestly doesn’t know how he’s survived this long without hearing Auston talk to him like this. He’s not sure he’ll last a day, an hour, without hearing it again. 

Freddie pushes in, slow and steady, until they’re pressed together as tightly as they can be. There’s a collective sigh. Finally. 

Auston’s tight. It’s been a while since Freddie’s done anal, but he doesn’t remember it feeing this good. This snug. Or maybe it’s the way Auston’s arms are around him now, holding him tight inside and out. It’s perfect. 

“Feels good, Aus,” he whispers, moaning at the end. “You feel so fucking good.” There’s a desperation in his voice he didn’t expect. “Tight,” he manages. 

“Mmm. You like that?” And he clenches. Not enough for it to hurt himself, but enough for it to feel amazing for Freddie, as if it wasn’t enough before. 

Freddie manages a strangled moan, sure that if he moves, it’ll be his undoing. “Oh god.”

Auston chuckles, low, soft, and strokes a hand up the length of Freddie’s back. He relaxes his muscles again and Freddie can start to feel himself breathing.

“Fuck me, Fred.” His voice is less gentle now. Not commanding, but not that far from it either. 

It gets Freddie to move, regardless. 

He doesn’t rush, isn’t exactly in a hurry, but he doesn’t take too long before he’s pushing back in. The sound Auston makes is absolute ecstasy. 

“More, baby,” he moans indulgently. 

Freddie huffs out. “You’re bossy in bed.”

“You like that?”

Freddie can’t manage more than a nod. He doesn’t stand a chance against him. 

Auston nips along his jaw and growls. Fucking growls this feral sound that goes straight to Freddie’s cock. 

And suddenly Freddie is sure the only thing keeping him from coming is the fear of absolute embarrassment it would cause him. 

On the other hand, part of him suspects Auston would just find that hot. 

They work out a slow rhythm, and it feels so right. Auston’s tipped his head back on the pillow, moaning, sounding absolutely fucking filthy, and Freddie does everything in his power to keep going despite that. 

It doesn’t ramp up until Freddie shifts, just slightly, and seems to be brushing over Auston’s prostate on every upstroke. The sounds from Auston double in volume. The heels against the backs of Freddie’s thighs pull harder. Everything gets faster, slicker, hotter, more urgent. 

“I’m close, baby,” Auston moans, reaching a hand between them. “Oh god, I’m close. Don’t stop. Fuck, Fred.”

Fred watches as Auston becomes less coherent, more desperate, and perfectly undone. He thrusts harder, watches Auston’s face to know if the angle is right. Hears the pleas streaming from his mouth. That cry from his throat. 

A few more thrusts and Auston is coming, shuddering, moaning it out, and Freddie feels his rhythm falter at the sight. 

He’s beautiful. 

Watching him like this is beautiful. 

Auston is still shaking through it, still gritting his teeth through the feeling, but he manages to moan out, “come on, baby. Come on, sweetheart.”

Fred grunts, right on the edge. Right fucking there, holding on. Trying to keep this from ending. 

“Let me feel you, Fred.”

And he can’t hold on anymore. Everything pauses, just for a second, and he lets himself feel. It courses through him, this brightness, this hyper-saturation. This feeling of Auston coaxing it out of him. The feeling of Auston pulling him closer, letting him bury himself in deep. 

“Oh fuck, yes,” Auston moans, holding Freddie tight. “Fuck, that’s it. Jesus.” 

He doesn’t get go of Freddie until he’s done. Until Freddie groans out the last shudders of his orgasm, stunned. Then Auston lets legs fall to the sides. 

“Holy shit,” Freddie manages, just enough air in his lungs to make the sound. 

Auston laughs, breathless, and it sounds gorgeous to Freddie’s ears. 

Freddie manages to lift his head off Auston’s shoulder, out from the crook of his neck, to look at his face. At his tanned skin. At his too-perfect smile. He smiles back, sated, exhausted, at peace. “Better?” He asks, leaving a breathless kiss on Auston’s lips. 

“Mmmm. Better. Much better.”

“Yeah,” Freddie agrees, collapsing into Auston’s chest. “Better.” 


End file.
